When the doctor made his rounds, I ensured I was present for the Thorne family meeting. He did manage to give me a strange side-eye as my presence wasn’t required at that time, but no one objected, so I didn’t relent.

As the doctor finished and left, I remained in Phil’s hospital room, ready to complete my own assessment. There was a thick sense of sorrow that lingered, their forlorn expressions darkening as Austin’s snores filled the space. He was curled up on an armchair in the corner, the frenetic events of the night catching up to him.

I had originally come for Alexis, but after seeing my former family, I knew I’d stay for them.

No matter how my marriage had ended, the Thornes were once a significant part of my life. Harriot and Phil were like my second parents, and Alicia had become as close as a sister before I lost it all.

And when I announced that I would be Phil’s primary physiotherapist, Harriot said, “We wouldn’t trust anyone else with our Phil.”

Alicia snickered, Alexis blanched and I was damn near teary from the proclamation. I owed so much to the Thorne family that I would give them my all.

They received me like an old acquaintance—polite greetings and surface-level nonsense while I talked them through my process for stroke patients.

It helped that Alexis was a nurse, so she was able to translate any medical lingo they didn’t quite understand. Despite the circumstances, she remained professional and clinical in her interactions with me, trying to keep that barrier high between us. Although, I could see the blatant emotion roiling in her eyes—the tense hold of her features, the rigid stance of her body.

My strong girl was trying to hold it together.

After my thorough evaluation, I shared my findings with them all. Phil had residual weakness on his left side, mainly restricting the physical abilities of his left arm and leg. He was having difficulty gripping and mobilising, which was causing some distress and frustration.

After our session, he was understandably fatigued. I ordered him to rest, then left the room, giving them time to process the new change.

As I reached the elevator, Alexis called my name. She was alone, approaching with reservation. I could see the worry pushing through her mask, those green irises shining like bright-coloured glass.

She was trying so hard to be strong for her dad, for her family.

“How bad is it really?” she asked, voice monotone.

“It’s still very early, but I meant what I said, Alexis. I do believe he can make a full recovery, or at least something close to it. For right now, let him rest and recover. Let his body heal.”

Her face was hard as granite until the fissures began to crack. Those expressive green orbs went vacant as her head bobbled in some semblance of a nod.