Ronan pov
Mother was sitting up.
I stood in the doorway of her room, hardly believing what I was seeing. Yesterday, she’d been barely conscious, her breathing shallow and labored. The healers had given her days at most.
Now she was propped against pillows, a bowl of broth in her hands, actually eating.
“Are you going to stand there staring all morning?” She smiled, and though it was weak, it was real. “Come sit with me.”
I crossed the room, pulling a chair close to her bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been trampled by the entire pack.” She took another sip of broth. “But better than yesterday. The healers seem… cautiously optimistic.”
Better. Not cured. Not healed. Just… better.
I wanted to feel relief. Wanted to believe this was a turning point. But I’d watched her have good
