"It won't repeat this time," Arthur said, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "Do not touch anything—or anyone—that belongs to that girl. That's final."
Philip started to speak, his voice muffled in protest, but Arthur didn't wait to hear it. With a quick swipe of his thumb, the call was ended, leaving only the faint hum of the room and the soft, uneven breaths of his wife. He placed the phone down on the nightstand, letting out a slow, measured exhale as he turned his attention back to her.
Lydia's gaze found his, her eyes heavy but searching, as if trying to anchor herself in the steadiness of his presence. A faint flicker of gratitude passed over her face, fleeting but unmistakable. Arthur reached for her, pulling her into the shelter of his embrace. His fingers threaded through her hair, the gesture tender and grounding, as if willing his strength into her.
