Heather took one more breath, straightened her back, and pushed the door open.
The lights in the room were low, and for a moment, all she could hear was the beeping of the monitor and the soft murmur of a voice.
Caius sat beside the bed, a book open in his lap. He was reading aloud, his tone flat and distant, like he wasn't truly there.
Heather didn't recognize the story—it sounded strange. Something about a boy lost in a maze.
She stepped in quietly, her limp making her movements soft and uneven. Her heels were long gone. She'd kicked them off hours ago, along with her composure.
Caius looked up, tracking her with his eyes like she was something unfamiliar. He was trying to guess what version of her was returning—was she still the woman screaming in the hallway, or had she reverted to someone more tolerable?
"You're back," he said.
She gave a single nod and looked toward the bed. Alex's eyes were open, dull but aware. His little head turned weakly at the sound of her voice.
