He wasn't sure how long he stood there in the hallway, breathing in the cool air as it seemed to pull him away from the room he'd just left. The isolation, the coldness, it felt worse than anything he had expected.
Back inside, Isabella, barely able to stay awake, noticed the faint sound of footsteps. Her head turned toward the entrance, her blurry eyes squinting against the dim light. Was that… she wondered, blinking the fog from her vision. She looked toward the door, but there was no one there.
Cyrus.
Her mind was too hazy to process the fleeting moment. Was he there?
It didn't matter. Not right now. She was exhausted, her body fighting against the weakness that had drained her. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She had to rest. But she made a silent promise to herself—I'll talk to him later. I'll thank him later.
