The morning light spilled through the curtains, soft and golden, warming the corners of my hospital room. I’d barely slept, but not from pain. It was the silence—too heavy, too loud.
I sat propped up on pillows, legs covered, the scent of broth still lingering from last night’s meal. My fingers absentmindedly traced the folded edges of Kody’s letter hidden under my pillow.
The door opened gently.
I didn’t have to look. I felt him.
Kody.
He walked in slower today, like he didn’t want to startle me. His jacket was half-zipped, boots scuffed from pacing, or maybe work. His eyes, though… tired. Not just from sleep, but from holding in too much.
“Hey,” he said softly.
“Hey,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.
He came to the side of the bed, knelt beside me like he always did, and rea
