When I opened my eyes, the light above me wasn’t as blinding as it had been before it was softer now, almost kind, like the world had agreed to pause its cruelty long enough to let me breathe.
The ceiling was the same pale white it had been the last time I faded into it, but this time it wasn’t unfamiliar it was heavy with knowledge, with consequence, with the kind of quiet a woman carries when her body is no longer just her own.
I turned my head slowly, the movement dragging sleep behind it like a shadow that didn’t want to release me just yet, and when I saw that the chair beside me was empty, my chest tightened before I even knew why.
Caleb wasn’t there.
The nurse wasn’t there.
And in the absence of everyone else, he filled the room without needing to be present at all.
Edward.
T
