Ayla’s POV
The room felt too white, too bright. Machines hummed softly at the corner, lines of green climbing and dipping on the monitor. My mom was half-buried under hospital blankets, her chest rising shallow, her lips cracked and pale. I sat on the edge of her bed, holding her hand, even though it felt like holding air. Too light, too fragile, like if I squeezed even a little, she might break.
Rowan stood against the wall near the door. He hadn’t sat down once since they’d brought her in. Arms crossed, shoulders tense, eyes watching everything. He was silent, but I could feel his presence like a weight in the room, steady, unshakable. Nurses came and went, bowing their heads to him, whispering “Alpha” before updating him on her vitals, the treatment plan, the medications. They never l
