Day six.
Heath had started counting time differently.
Not by hours. Not by sunrise or sunset. But by breaths.
Rosalie’s. Mariposa’s.
Each one a fragile victory. Each one a silent prayer answered, for now.
He stood, as he always did, between two worlds.
To his left—the ICU.
To his right—the NICU.
His body leaned toward one. His soul stretched painfully toward both.
He hadn’t slept much since the dream. Didn’t dare to. Every time he closed his eyes, he feared he would see her again... smiling, warm... and then fading.
He couldn’t survive that twice. So he stayed awake. Watched. Waited. Endured.
This morning felt no different. Same hollow ache in his chest. Same tightness in his throat. Same quiet fear pressing in from all sides.
He had just stepped out of Rosalie’s room.
Her han
