[Hospital — Private Room, Two Days Later]
Morning sunlight filtered through the wide windows, casting a soft glow over the private room that had slowly begun to feel less like a hospital and more like an improvised living space.
Alexander and Evelyn sat close together on the couch with untouched coffee cups on the table in front of them.
Lucas occupied the chair opposite, balancing a paper plate on his knee like this was a café and not a recovery ward.
Patricia, meanwhile, looked personally offended by the tray in front of her.
She poked the bland oatmeal with her spoon.
*I just want to know," she announced, scowling, "who decided that poisoning someone means they also deserve culinary punishment."
Lucas snorted. "Your body is recovering."
"My soul is dying," she shot back. "Do you know they wouldn't even give me salt?"
Evelyn laughed softly. "You collapsed and always died, Pat. Be grateful that you are all fine now."
