The door finally opened.
She jerked to her feet, or tried to. Her ankle throbbed as she rose, and she steadied herself against the wall with a soft wince.
But she didn't care about the pain. Her eyes were already on him—on Caius—as he stepped out of the doctor's office.
His face was pale.
Not just pale—drained. His eyes met hers, and for the briefest moment, she saw something crack in him.
It wasn't a flinch, not quite. But something subtle gave him away. And that, more than anything, made her heart clench.
She limped toward him. "What did he say?" she asked breathlessly. "Is he okay?"
Caius looked at her. And in that moment, his mind—usually a cold and calculated machine—was a blur. He had prepared himself for this moment.
Had even thought about what to say. How to soften the blow. But now, standing in front of her, none of that mattered.
All he could think about was if she was going to be able to take it.
