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“I’m sure he will.”

“Then I don’t understand why you insist on lingering.”

That finally gets my attention. I look up at her. “I’m not lingering.”

Her expression doesn’t change. “No?”

“No.” I close the file. “I’m making sure nobody misses anything.”

She studies me for a second, cool and entirely unconvinced. “How noble.”

I almost smile. “That wasn’t the pitch.”

Petra doesn’t move. “Your presence isn’t helpful.”

“Neither is your commentary.”

Her mouth tightens, just slightly. Good. At least one of us should be irritated honestly.

For a while she says nothing, and I begin to think she’s done. Then she adds, “You have a talent for turning already difficult situations into impossible ones.”

I’ve been hearing versions of the same accusation from myself for weeks.

I lean back in the chair and look at her properly. “If you’re trying to make me leave, this is not your best work.”

“I’m not trying,” she says. “I’m telling you.”

“Then tell someone who listens.”

She exhales once through her nose, annoyance finally surfacing in a way she’d probably deny if asked. “You’ve always mistaken stubbornness for principle.”

“No,” I say. “I’ve just had more reason to practice it.”

That one gets past her guard. Not much. Just enough that she looks at me with something more thoughtful than contempt before she smooths herself back into place.

“His doctors will call if there’s a change,” she says.

“I know.”

“And Maggie is home.”

My eyes go to her before I can stop them. Of course she knows that too.

Petra notices the glance and stores it somewhere behind her face. Then she says, “Try not to create any more problems before morning.” And walks away.

I sit there for another hour. Long enough to hear the nursing staff settle into night rhythm. Long enough to read through the current plan twice and mentally rewrite half of it. Long enough for the hospital to take on that strange after-midnight quiet where nothing is actually calm but everything sounds muffled, as if the building itself is tired.

When Alester wakes properly, it’s just after two.

The nurse comes out first and says, “He’s asking for you.”

I almost say no.

Instead, I stand.

He’s propped up when I walk in, the monitors gentler now, oxygen off, color better than it has any right to be given how he looked on the asphalt. He turns his head when I enter and watches me come to the bedside with a kind of narrow, exhausted focus.

“You look terrible,” he says.