A whisper of light pulled at the corners of my eyes.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The blur started to clear. White ceiling tiles. The low beep of a monitor. The sterile chill of the hospital air.
And then—
Him.
Noah.
He was slumped in a chair beside my bed, his head resting against my arm, his dark hair a tangled mess, eyes shut, mouth barely moving as he whispered something only I could hear.
I didn’t say anything at first. I just watched him.
Even broken, he was beautiful.
Even exhausted, he looked like home.
But then a sharp pain flared in my side and I winced—too hard.
I gasped softly.
Noah jolted upright, eyes wide. His gaze locked on mine like he wasn’t sure if it was real.
“Liz…?” he said, breathless.
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. So instead, I smiled — small and tired, but real.
He leaned forward so fast the chair screeched back.
“You’re awake. Oh my God,you’re awake.”
He looked like he was about to fall apart — crying and laughing and shaking all at once.
I opened my mouth, voice barely above a whisper.
“Hi…”
He let out a breath like he’d been holding it since the day I was taken.
“I thought I lost you,” he said, brushing hair from my face with trembling fingers.
“You didn’t,” I whispered. “You brought me back.”
He pressed his forehead to mine, eyes wet. “I love you.”
“I know,” I breathed. “I heard you.”
Then I closed my eyes again — but this time, it wasn’t from the pain. It was peace. Because I was alive, and he was here, and for the first time in a long, long time…I felt safe.
---- ??? ----
I was still awake when the door creaked open again.
