Naomi's POV
The discharge papers sat on the tray beside my bed, crisp and clinical, I stared at them for a long time.
It wasn’t the signatures or instructions that made my hands tremble—it was the finality. The quiet truth beneath the paperwork: I was going home. But Aurora wasn’t, Not yet.
“She’s stable,” the nurse reminded me softly, as if I didn’t already know. “Just a few more days to monitor her breathing and feeding patterns. Standard precaution.”
Standard.
Nothing about this felt standard, it feels like separation.
Raymond stood beside me, his arm protectively wrapped around my shoulders, trying to absorb the ache I couldn’t voice. Miranda was with Beatrice for the morning, so it was just the two of us. Quiet. Still. Standing on the line between two worlds—inside this hospita
