Loretta and Leon still had red, swollen eyes. They forced themselves to smile, trying to keep the mood light, and Nick didn't want to spoil it.
But he was no stranger to physical weakness and helplessness—he had long accepted the possibility of the worst outcome. Their forced cheerfulness only added weight to the pressure on him.
George looked at him, wanting to say something, yet finding the words impossible to voice. His Adam's apple bobbed a few times before he finally spoke softly, "Don't overthink it. You're fine—just rest and recover."
Though his tone was calm, his eyes betrayed him, glistening with unshed tears.
Nick nodded slightly, his gaze drifting past them as if searching for someone in the crowd.
Arista understood and whispered, "Khloe is outside… she's not in a good state."
Nick's eyes darkened for a moment.
"Let her in. I want to speak with her," he said hoarsely.
Arista nodded and gently pulled George aside. Grandma and Leon also stood, understanding the subtle cue, and left the room first.
Moments later, Khloe entered. Now, only the two of them remained. Her eyes were still slightly swollen, but her expression had regained a calm composure. She walked to the bedside, sat on a chair, and gently took his sculpted hands in hers.
"You really scared me yesterday. How are you feeling now? Does it still… hurt?"
Her voice was soft as she held his hand close to her cheek, forcing a gentle smile.
"Much better. It doesn't hurt. Don't worry," Nick replied, his deep eyes fixed on her face, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of her hand.
Seeing him like this, always so tender, made Khloe's eyes sting again, but she held back.
"I'm not worried," she said firmly. "You're stubborn. You won't die."
Nick's lips curved slightly, a faint smile threatening to emerge—but it tugged at the tubes attached to him, and his brow furrowed briefly.
"Don't move," Khloe warned quickly, pressing her hand over his.

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