Elara's Concern

Elara Vance, her brow furrowed with a familiar concern, watched the little boy in the hospital bed. His breaths were shallow, his usually bright eyes clouded with a weary sadness that seemed too deep for his seven years. He clutched a worn teddy bear, its fur matted with countless nights of comfort. This wasn’t the first time Elara had seen this look, this subtle but profound dimming of a child’s spirit, and it was becoming a disturbing pattern.

She gently placed a cool cloth on his forehead, her touch as soft as a butterfly’s wing. “How are you feeling today, Leo?” she asked, her voice a soothing balm.

Leo offered a weak smile, a flicker of his usual spark. “Tired, Miss Elara.”