Snow fell softly beyond the cabin windows.
The entire world looked quiet.
Peaceful.
Rosalie sat curled into the corner of the couch with baby Mariposa sleeping against her chest beneath a lavender blanket. The fire crackled warmly nearby, painting gold across the room while Heath chopped wood just outside.
It was one of the rare moments where everything felt calm.
No fear.
No blood.
No hospitals.
Just home.
Rosalie brushed her fingers through Posy’s dark curls gently.
“Your hair is getting so long already,” she whispered.
Posy made a tiny sleepy noise.
Rosalie smiled faintly before kissing the top of her daughter’s head.
The bond between them had become overwhelming since waking from her coma.
Sometimes Rosalie could feel Posy before hearing her cry.
Could feel when she was
