Vipraz stepped into the room late at night, his movements slow. The lights were dimmed. When he saw Anaika on the bed. Finally she was in the room with him.

But Anaika was already asleep—her back to his side of the bed. Between them, a neat wall of cylindrical pillows stood like a barrier, as a  declaration of distance. His gaze dropped to her foot, wrapped in its bandage, half-exposed beneath the blanket. It looked small. Vulnerable.