Zane’s voice drew Zinnia’s gaze instinctively toward the door.
Standing just outside was Landon, looking utterly disheveled, his face pale as a sheet. In his hand, he clutched an insulated container, eyes clouded with confusion and helplessness.
“Grandpa, I brought Zinnia something to eat. She hasn’t had a bite all day,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.
His eyes flickered toward Zinnia, pleading silently for permission.
Zinnia lowered her gaze in thought for a moment before finally speaking. “Let him in.”
Zane opened the door and stepped aside to clear a path. As he exited, he shot Landon a long, meaningful look, then shook his head and sighed before leaving.
Landon pushed open the door and stepped inside.
“I asked Sally to make you some chicken soup. I thought you might like it,” he said, his voice still rough.
He raised the tray table and carefully set the soup in front of Zinnia. For a moment, he just stood there, awkward and uncertain, like a child waiting to be scolded for a mistake.
But Zinnia said nothing to reproach him. Instead, she simply nodded with calm composure. “Thank you.”
She gave Landon a gentle nod, picked up the spoon, and took small, careful sips of the soup.
The savory warmth of the chicken soothed her, and after a few mouthfuls, she felt her stomach settle.
“I’m sorry.” Landon’s husky apology broke the quiet between them.


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