Millicent
Small gestures began accumulating throughout the days. Abel ensuring my water glass stayed full without me having to ask. Adjusting my pillows when I shifted positions. Bringing my favorite foods from the kitchen - the spicy tom yum soup I'd been craving, fresh fruit cut just the way I liked it, the specific brand of ginger tea that helped with residual nausea.
He didn't make a production of any of it. No announcements, no seeking credit or gratitude. Just quiet care that seeped through my defenses like water through cracks in a dam.
"The Summit planning is giving me a headache," I mentioned on the third day, rubbing my temples as I reviewed the tenth draft of the scheduling matrix.
"Then stop. Camden can handle it." Abel's response was immediate, though he didn't look up fro
