The seventh morning came with light.
Not the soft, uncertain gray of recovery, but a clearer kind of dawn that slipped through the windows and rested on the walls as if it had every right to be there.
Lila noticed it immediately.
She woke before Alden this time.
That alone felt like progress.
Her body still ached, but the pain had shifted again—no longer sharp or frightening, just the deep soreness of muscles healing after being pushed too far. She breathed carefully, testing herself, and felt strength where weakness had lived only days ago.
Beside her, Alden slept.
His breathing was steadier now, fuller. Not perfect, not effortless, but no longer a fight. Each inhale filled his tiny chest with quiet confidence, each exhale releasing it without hesitation.
Lila didn’t count this ti
