This quiet is different.
Soft.
Safe.
And my body doesn’t know what to do with that yet.
I sit on the edge of the narrow bed, Logan’s jacket still wrapped around me, my fingers curled into the fabric like if I let go, something will shift.
Something important.
The door clicks shut behind the nurse, and for a moment, I’m alone.
Completely alone.
My breath stutters.
Not panic.
Not quite.
Just—
Awareness.
Of everything that just happened.
Of everything thatdidn’t.
Of how close it came.
I press my palms against my thighs, grounding myself.
Concrete. Fabric. Air.
I’m here.
I made it out.
He came.
The thought lands differently now.
Not as a calculation.
Not as a probability.
As something steadier.
Something I chose to believe in.
There’s a quiet knock at the door.
Not a test.
Not a command.
A choice.
