KAIA

The night air is crisp and cool as we step outside.

Lewis gestures to one of the benches, and I sit, suddenly aware of how exhausted I am. He settles beside me—close enough to be comforting, but not invasively so.

For a moment, we just sit in silence, the distant sounds of the hospital muted out here.

"How are you holding up?" Lewis asks finally, his voice gentle.

I laugh, the sound bitter. "My mother just collapsed. How do you think I'm holding up?"

"Fair point." A small smile tugs at ...