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In the present scene:

Erick strode purposefully into the chamber, his footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. His eyes fell upon Cynthia, her frail form evoking a mixture of anger and guilt within him. Dark circles marred her once vibrant eyes, her lips were pallid, and her cheeks held a faint blush.

"It's all my fault. I should never have left her alone," he muttered under his breath. He approached her with measured steps, watching as she lay there, sleeping peacefully, her vulnerability tugging at his heart.

As Erick settled beside her, his presence a comforting warmth in the cold chamber, he called out to her in a voice that, despite his best intentions, carried the depth of his emotions. "Little Dove."

Cynthia stirred at the sound of his voice, her eyelids fluttering open. Her eyes, once dulled by weariness, met his gaze. In that moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

Cynthia blinked, momentarily disoriented. Her fever had cast a fog over her th