MAYA’S POV
It was the fourth day since the incident.
I sat by the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall peacefully. His color was finally returning, but he was still silent. He hadn’t said a word to me. This morning was the first time his eyes opened, but even then, his throat had been dry of any words.
I’d wanted to scream at him. I wanted to rain down every fear, every ounce of anxiety, and every bit of anger I’d suppressed while taking care of him. But seeing those eyes finally track my movement across the room made the anger in my heart simmer down into relief.
"Drink this," I whispered, bringing a bowl of the healing soup Delinda had helped me prepare. It was made with herbs she had gathered.
After I made him drink the soup, he fell into another deep sleep. The herbs
