An hour later and his eyes fluttered open again, and this time he seemed a bit more present, his gaze sharper, though it still looked like it took effort just to keep them open. He glanced around before finally settling his eyes on me, a slight furrow of confusion crossing his brow. I barely gave him a moment to process before I whispered, “Just a second,” and went to reheat the soup I’d prepared earlier.
Back in the kitchen, I warmed it gently on the stove, stirring with one hand, willing myself to stay calm. I could feel the tension easing off my shoulders, the dread that had been lingering for days finally giving way to relief. I didn’t even realize how tightly I’d been holding onto the edge of hope until now. Once the soup was warmed just right, I carefully poured it back into the bow
