When Camila noticed the bags under Connor’s eyes and the stubble on his chin, her heart tightened involuntarily. Last night, he had stayed by her bedside, hardly closing his eyes, so seeing him like this both moved and pained her.
“You should get some rest,” she softly told Connor.
Connor slightly shook his head. “I’m fine, not tired.” His voice was slightly raspy.
Camila sighed lightly, frowning, “Don’t play the tough guy. Look at yourself. You’re worn out.”
“Worn out?” Connor instinctively touched his face, then immediately checked his reflection in the glass.
“A bit rough-looking,” Camila managed to keep a straight face as she spoke.
Connor stiffened. “Are you kidding? Cole, come on, back me up here.”
Cole, observing their exchange, turned his face away, chuckling softly, choosing not to interfere in their playful banter.
“You better go rest, or you might actually start looking rough,” Camila said with a playful gleam in her eyes.
Connor was about to respond when a distant voice interrupted him.
“Cami...” Erica approached with a cry in her voice, running from afar. Logan, carrying bags big and small, followed her like a loyal assistant.
When Erica reached Camila, she hugged her tightly. “You didn’t even tell me your mom was hospitalized!” Her voice was full of reproach and concern.
Camila gently patted her back, soothingly saying, “You were working abroad, so I didn’t want to worry you.”
Logan quietly came over, set down the bags, and clapped Connor on the shoulder, giving him a look of silent support and encouragement.
“I’m upset, really upset.” Erica continued to hug Camila, pouting.
“I’m sorry,” Camila apologized.
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