Sophia’s POV
The sunlight filtering through the hospital blinds felt warmer each day, like the world itself was reminding me that life was still worth living. I lay in the bed, propped up against pillows that smelled of fresh linen instead of damp concrete, watching the steady rise and fall of my own breathing.
The rope burns on my wrists had faded to faint pink lines, the headache reduced to an occasional whisper instead of a scream.
Every small victory, eating a full meal without nausea, laughing at one of my brother’s terrible jokes, feeling Colton’s fingers lace through mine without flinching, felt monumental.
Trauma didn’t vanish overnight, but it loosened its grip a little more with each sunrise.
I was still recovering, still processing the way Frank’s shadow had stretched a
