Chapter 20 The Most Delicious Oats

• "Get up. Stop playing dead!" His fingers brushed against her arm, only to encounter skin as cold as ice. Joaquin's heart skipped a beat as he bent down to hoist the emaciated Zayla into his arms. She felt lighter than she had three days prior. The realization dawned upon him that three days without food had exacted a heavy toll. Holding her close, Joaquin felt as though he were cradling a child, the sharp edges of her bones a stark reminder of her diminished state.
• The light streaming in from outside seemed almost blinding as Zayla blinked, slowly raising her once vibrant eyes, now dulled and vacant. She had survived, finally emerging from the depths of her ordeal. Meeting Joaquin's gaze, her eyes traced his features—the curve of his chin, the thin line of his lips, the contour of his nose—each detail examined with painstaking precision. After three days of holding back tears, they finally spilled forth.
• Sensing her wet tears, Joaquin looked down, meeting Zayla's tear-filled gaze. She had often looked at him with a deep affection that had once repelled Joaquin. But now, her eyes seemed devoid of warmth. Instead, he met an abyss of darkness that left him searching in vain for an ounce of warmth. A heavy weight settled in Joaquin's chest as though struck by a sledgehammer. The ache lingered within him.