CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT: BETTER

In the wake of Oliver's accident, the atmosphere in Anna's apartment felt heavy with tension and uncertainty. They had returned from the hospital late in the evening, both physically and emotionally drained from the ordeal. Anna had tucked Oliver into bed, his little face still bearing traces of pain and fear, before retreating to the living room with Jonathan. They sat in silence for a while, the weight of the day's events hanging between them like a heavy fog. Anna could see the worry etched into Jonathan's features, his eyes darkened with concern. She longed to reassure him, to banish the fear that lingered in the air, but words eluded her. As the minutes stretched into hours, they found themselves drawn to each other, seeking solace and comfort in the warmth of their embrace. Jonathan's arms encircled Anna, pulling her close, and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. They stayed like that for a while, lost in their own thoughts, until