The soft afternoon light filtered through the half-drawn blinds of Room 407 at Green Hearts Hospital, casting a golden haze over the sterile space where machines hummed their gentle vigil. The air carried the faint, comforting scent of fresh lilies from a vase on the windowsill—Eliana's quiet touch—and the subtle tang of antiseptic that couldn't quite mask the warmth of reunion. Frank Bennett lay propped against crisp white pillows, his middle-aged face soft with wonder, balding head with greying hair catching the light, gentle dark eyes fixed on his daughter with a love that had endured every hardship. Frank Bennett had never spoken ill of anyone, enduring humiliation for Eliana's sake, and his peaceful wisdom remained the moral compass that had shaped her quiet strength.
