The pale, silvery light of the monitors washed over her face, making her look almost fragile enough to disappear if he blinked too long. Akshat pulled the stool closer to her bed, the scrape of its legs faint against the cold floor. He sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving her.

Her lashes fluttered lightly as she watched him, her breathing soft and uneven beneath the oxygen tube. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and let his fingers trace along her forehead , careful not to disturb the bandage. His touch was tender, reverent, almost hesitant, as if she were something divine that his mortal hands didn’t deserve to touch.