Chapter 63 The War Gets Personal

• Sunlight streamed through the half-closed blinds, casting thin, fractured beams across the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, steady yet fragile, mirroring Clara’s shallow breaths as she sat by Ethan’s bedside.
• He lay still, his face pale against the starched sheets, a thin line of gauze taped over the cut on his temple. The bruising around his jaw had deepened into dark purples and sickly yellows overnight, but his chest rose and fell with a reassuring consistency.
• Clara’s hand hovered over his before she let her fingers brush against his, needing the contact. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she whispered, voice raw with exhaustion and emotion.