The doctor left, and almost immediately after, the door opened again.

  Mark barely had time to process before his mother stepped in, followed closely by Aria’s father.

  "Oh, thank God—Mark," his mother said, her voice quiet but carrying a deep, trembling relief.

  Alba Nyx—a woman of quiet strength and relentless resolve. Normally composed, her poise seemed to crack around the edges as she stood there. Her hands were clasped together too tightly, her eyes fixated on the bandages around his torso. The tension in her shoulders screamed of sleepless nights and unspoken fear.

  Behind her, Elias Res, Aria’s father, entered with an entirely different presence. Tall, reserved, and serious, his expression remained unreadable. A man carved from discipline and tempered by experience. His gaze immediately found Aria, scanning her like a commander checking for casualties. Only once he confirmed she was alive—breathing—did he turn to Mark.

  "You shouldn’t have pushed that far," Elias said. His voice wasn’t harsh but carried the weight of unspoken judgment—a reminder of consequences.

  Aria met his gaze, unflinching. "I know."

  A heavy silence settled over the room. The weight of shared pain, unspoken regrets, and battles fought on the edge of survival.

  Alba finally stepped closer to Mark’s bedside, the tightness around her eyes softening just enough to let her vulnerability show.

  "You scared me, you know," she whispered, her voice cracking just enough for Mark to hear the exhaustion behind her resolve.

  Mark exhaled slowly, guilt clawing its way into his chest. "Sorry, Mom."

  Alba shook her head gently, reaching forward to brush his hair back, her fingers lingering just long enough to reassure herself that he was still there—still alive.

  "Just… don’t do that again," she said, though they both knew it wasn’t a promise he could make.

  The room fell quiet again, thick with things unsaid.

  Elias, now by Aria’s bedside, broke the heavy silence with an unexpected lightness in his voice.

  "What did you kids do this time to get yourselves into such a mess?" His tone carried the ease of someone who had seen worse and survived, a hint of playful exasperation undercutting his serious demeanor.

  He leaned in slightly, resting a hand on the back of the chair near Aria, but instead of softening, a crooked grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You look like you lost a fight with a mountain lion."

  There was no pity in his tone—just the dry humor of someone who believed that hardship wasn’t something to be mourned but worn like armor. He nudged her lightly on the shoulder. "So? What happened?"

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  No pressure. No coddling. Just a simple expectation that she would speak when she was ready—and handle the weight of her choices like the fighter he knew she was.

  Aria began recounting the events, her voice steady despite the weight of what had happened. Mark occasionally interjected, adding details where she hesitated, his voice tight with guilt and frustration.

  Alba listened closely, every word deepening the furrow in her brow. Though it was all in the past now, her worry clung to her like a shadow—each revelation a reminder of how close she had come to losing her son. Her hand occasionally brushed against Mark’s arm, reassuring him that she was there, even if her thoughts screamed louder than her words.

  Elias, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair with a casual ease that contrasted starkly with Alba’s concern. His expression was thoughtful, almost amused by the sheer recklessness of it all. When Aria finished, he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

  "Sounds like the kind of trouble that teaches you more than any lesson could," Elias remarked, the corner of his mouth twitching in a crooked grin. "Pain’s a hell of a teacher—but you’re both still here, and that’s what matters."

  His gaze softened when it returned to Aria. "You did what you had to. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for that. Just remember—next time, don't hesitate."

  There was no judgment, just the raw honesty of someone who had faced hardship and knew that survival wasn’t about avoiding mistakes but learning from them. It was tough love, wrapped in rough humor and unwavering belief in her strength.

  Just as things began to settle, the door burst open—this time loudly.

  "Look who’s finally awake!" Lyra’s voice cut through the heaviness like a sudden gust of wind.

  Daniel followed behind, smirking. "The sleeping beauty finally woke up!"

  Elias stood up first, stretching with the ease of someone who had spent years getting back up after hard falls. As he approached Aria, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You’ll figure it out. Just don’t waste time feeling sorry for yourself," he said, voice light but carrying an undercurrent of unwavering belief.

  Alba lingered for a moment longer by Mark’s bedside. Her hand found his, squeezing gently—an anchor in the storm. "Get some rest, okay? You need it more than you think," she murmured, her voice soft yet steady. Then, her eyes shifted toward Lyra and Daniel.

  "You two—keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless," she said, a subtle but clear note of authority threading through her gentle voice.

  Mark groaned, not from pain this time but from sheer embarrassment. "Mom? They're the babysitters now?"

  Daniel chuckled, stepping forward. "Hey, don’t look so disappointed—we’re the best company you’re gonna get."

  Alba’s expression softened as she gave Mark’s hand one last squeeze before finally turning to leave.

  Without another word, they both stepped out, leaving space for the kids to finally catch up.

  Mark groaned, running a hand down his face. "Not even awake for an hour, and I already regret this."

  Lyra grinned, plopping into the chair beside his bed with a casual ease that felt out of place in the sterile, tense air of the room.

  "Oh, you’re stuck with us now, sleepyhead."

  Daniel crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, relaxed but sharp-eyed. "Hey, if you wanted a real challenge, you should’ve fought me instead."

  Mark’s lips twitched, the beginning of a smirk forming. "You wish."

  Then, his tone shifted, the humor draining from his voice. "By the way… what happened to Alexander?"

  The room stilled.

  Lyra’s grin faltered for just a second—barely noticeable, but Mark caught it. Daniel’s casual stance stiffened, and an uncomfortable silence settled like a weight over them all.

  Mark’s heart sank.

  "What happened?" His voice was quiet now, stripped of all humor.

  Daniel exchanged a glance with Lyra before answering. "He’s… still unconscious. They’re monitoring him. It’s bad, Mark."

  Mark’s breath hitched. The weight of helplessness settled heavily on his chest again, more suffocating than the bandages around his ribs.

  Lyra placed a hand on his shoulder, grounding him in the moment. Her eyes met his, silently offering support without the need for words.