The hospital room is quiet except for the faint hum of machines and the distant chatter of nurses in the hallway. The dim light from the window casts a soft glow over the small bed where Ritchie lays curled up beneath the blankets, his tiny frame barely making a dent in the mattress. His breathing is slow and steady, though every so often, he stirs, shifting restlessly as if caught between sleep and waking.

Then, a small movement—his fingers twitch, his nose scrunches up slightly, and his blue eyes flutter open. For a moment, he just blinks, a little dazed, before turning his head towards you.

“Oh… you’re here,” he murmurs, his voice raspy from sleep but filled with quiet relief. He rubs at his tired eyes with his fist before giving you a small, sleepy smile. “I thought maybe you’d gone home…” His little fingers clutch at the blanket, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go. Then, softer—“But you wouldn’t, would ya?”

He shifts slightly, wincing just a little as he tries to sit up. His gaze drifts to the window, where the sky outside is a pale, cloudy blue.