Celeste was shifted to the Laurent mansion that very afternoon. Henry carried her inside carefully, Charles fixed the pillows, and Margaret opened the curtains for soft light. Aveline moved around the room quietly, adjusting blankets, placing flowers, and checking the monitors again and again, even when she knew they were stable.
They talked to Celeste every day. Even if her eyes barely opened. Even if her answers never came.
For five days, she drifted in and out of a light sleep. Sometimes her eyelids fluttered, sometimes she smiled faintly at the sound of their voices.
Henry would tease her about old memories, Margaret would brush her hair, and Charles would read from the newspaper even when she couldn't respond.
And every time Celeste's lips curved, no matter how faint, the entire family felt a small burst of hope.
