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~Eva’s POV
I woke up to the soft drag of fingers across my cheek.
It was not rough and not hurried. It was gentle, almost careful, like someone afraid I might break if they pressed too hard.
I stirred, my lashes fluttering as light filtered through the room. My head ached faintly, the dull reminder of the night before. When my eyes finally focused, the first thing I saw was her face.
Dylan’s mother.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed neatly as always, her hair perfectly arranged, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet authority. Her hand paused when she realized I was awake.
“Good morning, my dear,” she said softly.
I pushed myself upright quickly, my heart jumping. “Good morning, ma’am,” I replied, my voice hoarse from sleep and crying.
Before I could fully
