Nayana
The first thing I feel is warmth.
A slow, gentle warmth spreading through my fingers, up my arm, almost like someone is holding my hand. My mind tries to swim upward through the fog, clinging to that sensation because it’s the only thing that feels real right now. My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, but I try again—forcing them open one slow blink at a time.
The world comes back to me in fragments. White ceiling. Soft beeping. A faint scent of disinfectant.
I’m in a hospital.
My lashes flutter fully open, and when I turn my head slightly, my breath catches in my chest.
Max is curled up at the corner of the bed, fast asleep with his head resting on my thigh, his arms wrapped around my waist as if he’d been afraid I’d disappear again. He looks so small… so fragile… and I can’t hel
