AVA
Morning light filtered weakly through the blinds of the private hospital room. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling every ache in my body like a warning I could no longer ignore. My hand rested lightly over my stomach, where the scar tissue had become a constant, angry presence.
The pain last night had been different — more desperate. For a moment, I had truly believed my body might give up before I finished what I started. The thought terrified me more than I wanted to admit.
The door opened quietly. Daniel stepped in, looking like he hadn’t slept. His eyes softened the moment they met mine.
“You’re awake,” he said, voice rough with relief. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, taking my hand carefully.
We stayed like that for a long moment — no words, just the
