"Doctor! Doctor—someone call the doctor!"
Naomi's voice rang sharply through the white corridors, panic and disbelief crashing together in her chest. Her baby boy stirred in her arms, startled by the sudden sound.
Inside the quiet hospital room, the monitors beeped steadily. For 363 days, that sound had become background noise, a cruel metronome marking each second of stillness.
But today, something had changed.
Naomi took a half step closer, her eyes wide and unblinking. "Eryx?" she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Her gaze locked onto his face,his eyes no longer shut in unnatural peace, but fluttering weakly, adjusting to light. His eyelashes twitched again.
He was waking up.
The boy in her arms cooed, not understanding the weight of this moment, not knowing the man in that bed had slept through a world of grief, guilt, and quiet waiting.
Naomi swallowed hard. "Eryx, can you hear me?" She crouched beside him, careful not to wake her son. "It's okay. You're safe."
