The florist across the street wrapped white lilies and pale pink roses in soft tissue. Ethan imagined Lina’s sleepy smile when she saw them. He took his time crossing back, stopping to grab a coffee from the vending nook, savoring the strange, buoyant calm after hours of raw intensity.
Room 314’s door stood ajar when he returned. He nudged it open, bouquet first. The bed was empty, sheets creased, still holding Lina’s form. The bassinet was empty. A half‑full cup of water perched on the table beside her unopened card. The curtain swayed slightly in the still air.