It had been three days since Adrian woke from his critical state.

Morning sunlight poured through the hospital window, painting a soft glow over his face—color had finally returned to it. His body was still weak, but there was life again in those deep brown eyes.

Rosemary sat beside his bed, dressed simply in a loose white shirt, her hair falling freely over her shoulders. She hadn’t left his side once. Her gaze stayed fixed on him, as if afraid that if he closed his eyes again, he might vanish forever.

“Stop staring at me like that, Rose. I’m starting to feel like I’m being watched by the angel of...