She paused at the doorway, turning one last time. “Goodnight, Daniel,” she murmured, her voice a lullaby carried on the night breeze.
Aletta slipped out of the room, her silhouette disappearing down the hallway, leaving behind a faint scent of jasmine and the lingering promise that, no matter how restless the night, there would always be someone to tend to the wounds—both seen and unseen—with a caring touch and a story that could soothe even the most unsettled heart.
He managed a weak smile. “Better, I think. The pain’s gone, but I can’t seem to find… peace.”
Aletta pulled up a chair, the wood creaking gently under her weight. She sat close enough that the faint scent of her perfume—something light, reminiscent of sea‑salted jasmine—filled his immediate space. “Sometimes the body heals, but the mind needs a little more… attention.”
