When Astrid finally surfaced, it was slow—like rising through deep water. The air was cold against her skin, the sterile quiet of the hospital settling around her heartbeat. The steady beep of the monitor was a metronome to her breaths, to the way her chest still ached, to the ghost of that night that refused to fade. —blood on her hands. Silas’s voice cracking through the wind. “Astrid, run!” The flash of claws, the sound of bone breaking, the way the world tilted when he hit the ground. She stirred, fingers twitching against the sheets as if trying to hold onto someone who wasn’t there. A whimper escaped before she even opened her eyes, and when she finally did—the room was dim, soft morning light spilling through the blinds. And Maddie was there. Her best friend, sitting curled up in the chair beside her bed, eyes red and tired but still managing that quiet kind of warmth Astrid had come to crave. There was a book open in her lap, though it looked like she hadn’t turned a page in hours. Astrid blinked hard, trying to ground herself. The last few days came in fragments, overlapping like watercolors: waking to her family’s faces blurred with tears, “Momma?” she’d croaked, voice raw, and Xavia had been right there beside her. “Umma?” Blythe’s hands had been shaking when they cupped her face, but she’d smiled anyway. The room had felt too full and too empty all at once. And through it all—Silas was still somewhere down the hall, not waking up. Now, it was quieter. Just Maddie. Just her. Astrid swallowed, throat tight. “You—you came?” Her voice came out small, rough, like it hadn’t been used in days. She managed the faintest hint of a smile, but it trembled at the edges. “You didn’t have to.” Her gaze drifted to the window, where the sun was just beginning to climb. “Feels like the whole world’s been holding its breath,” she whispered, voice splintering on the last word. Then she looked back at Maddie—eyes glassy, searching. “Can you—can you stay a little longer?” Because the truth was, Astrid wasn’t sure she could keep breathing without someone there to remind her she still could. @mcnstercus
