Ninety Four

That morning, I sat on the edge of our bed, the sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a soft glow over Atlas's bare chest. My fingers moved carefully as I unwrapped the bandage from his wound, the memory of how deep it had been two weeks ago still fresh in my mind. I couldn't help but smile at how well it had healed.

"Looking good," I murmured, tracing the line of the scab with my fingertip. It wasn't as angry and red as it had been, now just a faint mark that would eventually fade into a memory.

Atlas winced slightly as I touched the sensitive skin, and a scowl creased his face. It made me pout, and I gently traced his scowl with my thumb, trying to smooth it away.

"Don't scowl at me," I teased, my voice soft. "I worked hard to fix you up, you know."

He took my hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know," he said, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing it tenderly. "Thank you, Lilith. For everything. You took care of me when I was at my worst."

My heart swelled