Birds fluttered and flopped clumsily against the open sliding window, their wings beating in uneven rhythms as morning poured itself into the room. Sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains—soft at first, then bold—until it struck Yvienna's face, resting on her closed eyelids like a quiet summons. Dust motes drifted in the glow, suspended in the hush of a room that smelled faintly of antiseptic and rain-soaked fabric.
She lay unmoving, unconscious, her breathing shallow but steady.
Beside the bed, Kyle sat slumped on a small wooden stool. Sleep had claimed him hours ago. One arm was wrapped around his head, his fingers tangled in his hair as his forehead rested against the mattress, as if he'd surrendered there out of exhaustion and fear. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly—proof that he hadn't moved since the night before.
Then—movement.
Yvienna's fingers twitched.
