_Lyla's POV_
The days passed slowly, but Dorian’s condition steadily improved. Every morning, I sat beside his hospital bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. I was grateful for every breath he took. I fed him when he was too tired to lift a spoon, helped him walk when his legs trembled, and held his hand when the nightmares returned.
The medics said that he was lucky to be alive. I knew it wasn’t luck. It was the bond. It was fate. It was Astra. It was me.
“He’s stronger today,” Astra said one morning as the sunlight spilled through the narrow window, warming the edges of the sheets.
I smiled faintly and brushed a strand of hair from Dorian’s forehead. “And Shadow?”
“He’s healing too. Slowly. But the darkness that surrounded him is lifting.”
I exhaled in relief and kissed Do
