Dexter had been rushed to the hospital. Esme and Silas stood face to face, their gazes locked in a tense and emotional silence. Tears streamed down Esme's face. She was right in front of him, but she couldn't cross the distance as if her legs were glued to the spot.
Her heart ached as she took in his appearance. The sophisticated man, who always kept himself groomed meticulously, looked messy with his face unshaven, hair disheveled, and eyes filled with weariness. The transformation in him over just a few days was startling.
Esme's sobs grew louder as she absorbed the sight of him.
Silas, unable to bear her tears, stepped closer, his own heart pounding in his chest. "Esme," he whispered, wiping away her tears with a gentle hand. "Please, don't cry."
Esme flung herself into his arms, clinging to him as though he was her lifeline. Silas held her tightly, his own emotions overwhelming him. His throat burned as he fought back his own tears.
