They let him in at half past twelve.
The room was quieter than the ICU. The machines still worked steadily around the bed, but the tension here felt lower now, calmer after the surgery. A nurse stood near the counter writing something into a file before leaving the room again without disturbing the silence.
Jay lay in the center of the bed.
Roman stopped beside him immediately.
For a long moment, he simply looked at him.
Jay looked pale beneath the hospital lights, his face almost colorless now. The bandages around his head were clean and tightly secured while the ventilator breathed for him in slow, controlled rhythms. One of his hands rested beside him above the blanket, still and cold.
But he was alive.
Roman pulled the chair closer and sat down beside the bed quietly. His eyes stayed fixed on Jay's face as if looking away would somehow change things again.
The surgery had worked.
That was all that mattered right now.
