[ELARA'S POV]
Julian stopped eating on a Thursday.
Just looked at the breakfast Marguerite had made and shook his head. The nurse tried coaxing him. Damian tried bribing him with the fancy pastries from that French place Julian liked.
Nothing.
"I'm done." Julian's voice was barely there. "Can't keep anything down anyway."
The nurse checked his vitals. Pulse too fast. Blood pressure too low. Oxygen saturation dropping.
She pulled me and Damian into the hallway outside Julian's room.
"It's time to consider hospice." Her voice was gentle. Professional. She'd done this before. "He's declining faster than expected. Days. Maybe a week."
My fingers dug into Damian's arm. His muscles were rigid as steel under my hand.
"What does hospice mean?" I already knew. But I needed her to say it.
"It means we make him comfortable. Pain management. Dignity. No more fighting. Just... peace." She looked between us. "I'm sorry."
