Lucas let out a long sigh, one heavy with the weight pressing down on him.
"Why aren't you eating?" he asked softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Haisley. He took the untouched tray from her lap and set it on the nightstand. There was no sound except for the hum of the air conditioner and the breath caught in Haisley's throat.
Silence lingered for a moment. Then his voice came again, gentler this time, as if trying to break through the wall of guilt and exhaustion hanging in the air.
"What do you want to eat?"
He reached out, touched Haisley's chin, and slowly lifted her face. Her eyes were swollen, red, and full of tears. Her face was puffy, a wound that didn't bleed, yet cut deeper than anything else.
Lucas sighed again, this time deeper, heavier. His gaze locked onto his wife's eyes.
