Jason sat propped against the pillows, still pale but stronger now. The machines beside him hummed softly, no longer threatening, just background noise. Leah sat close, her hand resting in his, her thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles like she was reminding herself he was real.

They hadn’t spoken much all morning. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, more like both of them were learning how to breathe again.

Then Jason’s phone buzzed on the table. He reached for it slowly, wincing a little, and pressed it to his ear.

“Father,” he said. His voice was steady, but quieter than usual.

Leah’s head turned immediately. She watched his face tense, his...