Alliah sat by the window of her hospital room, her gaze following the pale gold of the sunrise as it spilled across the sky. For weeks, the mornings had come heavy, weighed down by treatments, tests, and the quiet dread of what each new day might bring. But this morning felt different. There was a softness to the light, almost as if the world itself had decided to whisper something she had longed to hear: Hold on. Something good is coming.
She pressed her palms together in her lap, drawing a slow breath. Her body still ached from the last procedure, and her muscles carried the dull fatigue of a battle fought too long. But beneath that exhaustion was a subtle shift, a quiet strength she couldn’t quite name.
Jamiro stirred awake on the couch across the room, his tall frame folded awkwardly
