Chapter 64

Clair lay in her bed, her gaze distant and unfocused. The light in her eyes, which had been lost not long ago, had finally returned, and she found herself staring at the familiar ceiling of her room.

“She’s awake,” came a voice—soft, worn, and achingly familiar.

Her head turned slightly toward the sound, weakly, as if even the effort tugged at the very edges of her strength. Her eyes landed on him. Cyrus. He was sitting beside her, his posture slouched and voice thick with something that sounded like regret.

Clair’s brows knitted together in silent confusion. Her lips didn’t move, but her eyes asked every question swirling through her still-fragile mind.

“Miss! How are you feeling now?” One of the maids rushed to her side, her tone laced with concern. But Clair didn’t respond—not to her. Her eyes remained locked on Cyrus.

So focused, so unwavering, that he found himself unable to meet her gaze for long. He looked away, as if the weight of her stare pres