ALEXANDER
The first thing I hear is the silence.
Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that crawls under your skin, settles in your bones, and makes you feel like even breathing is too loud.
Then— there’s a sound.
It’s soft, so faint that I almost think I imagined it.
But it’s enough to rip me out of the fog I’ve been drowning in.
My head jerks up from where it’s been resting against the edge of her bed. Everything aches—my neck, my back, my eyes—but none of it matters.
Because her fingers twitch against mine.
It’s a tiny flutter, and it’s so fragile I could cry.
But it’s real.
“Em?” My voice breaks on her name. I straighten so fast my chair scrapes the floor. “Emmaline?”
Days. Maybe weeks. I’ve sat in this exact chair, begging the universe for something—anything—to prove she’s st
