Azraiel sat still as stone on the chair beside Charlotte’s bed, his hands clasped loosely together, elbows resting on his knees. The soft beeping of the monitors filled the quiet room, a rhythmic reminder that she was still breathing.She was still here.But gods, it didn’t feel like it.His golden eyes were fixed on her face—peaceful, pale, too still. Her body was wrapped in healing bandages, the angry red and blackened burns visible in the few places the linen didn’t cover. Even the smell of charred skin hadn’t fully faded.His throat tightened.It reminded him so vividly of the day he first saw her. Unconscious. Her face just as pale. Her breathing just as faint. And him…sitting just like this, staring at her like she was the center of his universe.Back then, he hadn't known who she really was. But now...Now, she was everything.And she was hurt.He reached out slowly, delicately taking her hand in his. Careful. Reverent. Like the slightest pressure might shatter her completely.A
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