Laura’s POV
The hospital room was heavy with silence, broken only by the faint beeping of the monitors and the occasional rustle of a nurse in the corridor. I sat near Elina’s bed, watching her sleep, her small chest rising and falling, fragile yet steady. Richard stayed crouched beside her, his hand still holding hers, his eyes never leaving her face. The tension around him was palpable, every muscle taut, every breath measured.
“I can’t leave her,” he whispered suddenly, almost to himself. “Not now. Not ever.”
“You don’t have to,” I said softly. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”
He shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake away years of guilt. “I failed her, Laura. I wasn’t there when she needed me most. And now—now it’s my fault she got hurt again.”
“No,” I said, placing a h
