William slung Lucas over his shoulder like a sack of malfunctioning tech, one hand braced against his back for balance, the other already reaching for the door sensor.
Ava followed without speaking.
She didn't need to ask where they were going. She already knew.
The hallway felt dimmer than usual, the soft lights tracking movement. William moved with the kind of ease that only came from habit—not just strength, but practice. He wasn't doing it the careful way, the respectful, 'don't disturb the patient' way. No gentle arms. No princess carry. Just shoulder and motion and silence. Lucas would have approved as manly.
At the end of the corridor, the door to their room opened.
Except it wasn't hers. Not really.
She'd occupied it. Laid her head on its pillow, use the bathroom. But it had never stopped being his.
