Amara’s POV
The digital world is a strange, breathless place. It can turn a secret into a sensation in the span of a heartbeat, all while the person behind the screen is sitting in a room that smells of steam and iron.
I sat on the floor of my boarding house room, leaning my back against the side of the bed. Noah was asleep, his chest rising and falling with a steady, rhythmic strength that made my own heart feel lighter. He was off the oxygen now, the portable concentrator sitting in the corner like a retired soldier. He was five months old, filling out with a healthy, soft roundness that I traced with my fingertips every morning just to be sure he was real.
On my lap, my laptop was a window into a world I had once been cast out of.
The Gilded Thread had officially launched the "Hidde
