Tatiana stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to the sterile light of the clinic. The steady hum of machines filled the quiet room, and the faint tug of an IV in her arm snapped her back to reality.
Turning slightly, she saw Luca sitting beside her bed, his large hand wrapped around hers.
The tension in his posture was unmistakable—his broad shoulders were hunched, his head bowed, and his free hand clenched into a fist on his knee. When her fingers weakly squeezed him, he looked up, his amber eyes swimming with regret and worry.
“You’re awake,” he breathed, relief washing over his features. “You passed out… dehydration and exhaustion.” His voice cracked slightly as he looked away, his jaw tightening. “I pushed you too far.”
“Luca,” Tia began, her voice hoarse, but he shook his head.