The room had settled into itself.
The monitors kept their even rhythm, reliable and unhurried. The lights were dimmed to something warm and low that made the room feel less clinical, more like a space that had decided to be gentle with the people inside it. Zara lay on her side with one hand resting over her stomach, the IV dripping its slow careful measure into the back of the other. The ache was still present but distant now, a low background note rather than something that demanded her full attention.
Aiden was asleep in the chair beside her with his head resting on the mattress and one hand loosely around hers. Even in sleep he looked tired, the lines of his face carrying the residue of the night. His shirt was wrinkled from hours of sitting hunched forward. His hair had been pushed
