More children.
Laughter echoing through sun-warmed corridors.
A nursery full of life and mischief—ink-stained fingers and haphazard curls escaping their ribbons.
Music drifting through open windows on golden afternoons.
Travels to the continent—Paris, Rome, perhaps even Greece, if he could convince her to brave the voyage by sea.
A lifetime of joy.
Of stolen kisses in quiet hallways.
Of nights spent wrapped in each other's arms, the world held at bay.
All of it. Everything.
If only.
He shifted in the chair and let his head rest beside their joined hands, his cheek brushing the side of her smallest finger.
He didn't know if he was praying. Or remembering. Or simply holding on.
Sleep stole over him quietly, like grief—sudden and slow all at once—until he drifted off with his fingers still curled around hers.
Chapter 46
Warmth stirred against his hand.
Subtle at first—so faint he thought he might be dreaming. But then it came again. A soft stroke, the gentle brush of a thumb gliding over his knuckles.
Jasper stirred, eyes still closed, uncertain whether it was memory or hope playing tricks on him.
Then came another sensation—cool fingers against his cheek. Featherlight. Familiar.
His eyes opened.
Abigail was watching him.
Her gaze was soft, unguarded, steady. She said nothing, but her fingers moved again— tracing the line of his cheekbone with aching tenderness, as though committing the moment to memory.
"Abigail," he breathed, sitting up quickly, the chair creaking beneath him.
He caught her hand in both of his, holding it as though afraid to let go. It was no longer cold and limp, but warm—alive.
Tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them. He leaned forward, pressing her palm to his lips. "You came back to me."
"Jasper," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He straightened. "One moment, darling. I'll call for the nurse."
He rose and crossed swiftly to the door, pulling it open with more force than necessary and called for a nurse. Down the hallway, he spotted Nathaniel and Grace seated in a small alcove. They stood the moment they heard him.
"Abigail is awake," Jasper called, projecting his voice just enough to carry over the soft bustle of footsteps and conversation in the corridor, unwilling to leave her side for even a moment.
"Shhhhhh!" someone hissed nearby.
Jasper turned, unbothered, and eased the door partway closed. He returned to Abigail's side and sank back into his seat, gently reclaiming her hand. She blinked slowly up at him, her eyes heavy with fatigue.
