Lyle's fingers, once tightly gripping the warped railing, slowly relaxed as he gently lowered the phone from his ear, the device slipping back to rest at his side. The tension that had coiled within him moments before dissipated, leaving behind a noticeable change in his breathing—each inhale and exhale deeper and steadier than before.
Behind him, Jania hesitated, her hands clasped tightly together. Her expression was a mixture of concern and uncertainty, the furrow of her brow and the slight bite of her lower lip betraying her inner turmoil. Despite her apprehension, she took a tentative step closer, the soft rustle of her pajamas barely audible in the silence.
"How is she?"
Lyle tore his gaze away from the empty space he had been staring at and fixed his eyes on Jania with an indifferent expression. "She's fine," he said, returning the phone to her.
