“Do you remember the smell of this room? It was always too cold. Too much bleach and the sound of machines that wouldn’t stop humming.”

Lucian’s voice was a soft, resonant vibration in the small, sterile space. He stood in the center of the private ICU suite—the very room where the world had ended and begun for him all those months ago. The hospital had changed the curtains and the linens, but the atmosphere remained preserved in the amber of his memory.

Celeste stood by the door, her hand resting on the cold metal handle. Her heart was racing, a frantic bird trapped behind her ribs. Coming back here felt...