Edwin, older and with a touch more insight into grown-up affairs, entered with a hint of a scowl.

"Hey, dad," he greeted Mark, but then fell quiet.

Mark, sensing something amiss, inquired, “Everything okay?"

Meeting Mark's gaze briefly, Edwin murmured, “Now that you're grown-up, can you, I don't know, take care of yourself? So mom doesn't have to fret so much?"

A chuckle escaped Mark, though a tender sentiment swelled within him.

With a voice gentle as a whisper, he teased, “Worried about me, huh?"

Flushing, Edwin retorted, “I am not."

Recognizing the boy's feelings but choosing to leave them unspoken, Mark ruffled Edwin's hair, suggesting, "Hungry? Get Peter to show you where to grab a bite. The treats here rival those at Yarmose."

But Olivia seemed glued to the spot, not keen on heading out.

Cecilia watched as Olivia snuggled into Mark's chest, claiming her usual spot right against his slim midriff.

Edwin, however, had other ideas; lifting Olivia, he declared in a rough tone, "Time for breakfast. No breakfast means no lunch."

Amidst Olivia's protests and tears, her brother led her away.

The ward settled into a hushed stillness. A nurse approached, expertly setting up an IV bag for Mark before leaving just as swiftly.

Drawn to his side, Cecilia delicately held Mark's hand, tracing the numerous puncture marks.

Her voice just above a whisper, she asked, “Are you in pain?"

Resting, Mark lifted his gaze to meet hers; a moment passed before he murmured, "Are you worried for me?"

Cecilia's nod was almost imperceptible.

She took a seat beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a slow embrace.

His warmth was familiar, but she knew he had endured much the previous night. His health was fragile; had he not been so attentive, she couldn't bear to think of the outcome.

Feeling the slight shudder in her frame, Mark whispered reassuring words into her ear, “I'm okay, Cecilia. Please, don't cry. I'm okay."