#Chapter 80: Vigil

ELENA I hadn’t moved from his bedside since yesterday. Not when the nurses gently nudged me to rest. Not when my back ached from the hospital chair. Not even when my eyes burned from staying open too long. Aiden hadn’t stirred. The doctors said he was stable, that the transfusions were working, that his vitals were holding—but he still hadn’t opened his eyes. And so I stayed. I held his small hand in mine, my thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. His skin was still warm. His breath steady, if shallow. But the beeping machines and the antiseptic scent in the air were constant reminders of how close we’d come to losing him. How close we still were. The room was dim, the shades drawn against the harsh Caribbean sun. Derek had adjusted the lighting hours ago, without asking, just quietly dimmed the fluorescents until the space felt less sterile. Softer. I heard the door open behind me. Derek stepped inside, silent as always, a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag wi