I slept. And when I woke again— They were there. My family. My mother reached my bedside first. She didn't try to be dignified. She broke. Her sob tore from her chest, raw and unrestrained, as she grasped my hands like she was afraid I would disappear again. Tears soaked into the sheets, into my skin, and I didn't have the strength to tell her it was alright, even though I wanted to.
My father stood behind her, tall and proud as ever, but his eyes betrayed him. They were red. Wet. He placed a hand on my shoulder, firm, grounding, as if anchoring himself to the proof that I was alive.
And Ford. My brother. The Crown Prince. He stood at the foot of the bed, unsmiling—but the tension in his shoulders was gone. His jaw was clenched, eyes steady on me, and for the first time since childhood, I saw relief crack through the armor he wore so faithfully.
