Esther’s POV
The moment I saw him, my knees nearly gave out. Carl lay on the bed, small and fragile beneath the sterile white sheets, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm so steady it almost seemed like a lie. I had imagined worse—imagined the worst—but seeing him now, pale but alive, his tiny hands curling around the blanket, it was as though the weight of every sleepless night, every terrified glance, every whisper of worry I’d endured slammed into me at once.
My legs carried me forward without permission, almost as if they had a mind of their own. My hand hovered over his forehead for a trembling moment before I touched him, brushing damp curls away from his skin. He was warm. Not fever-hot, not icy cold, just warm, just as a child should be after sleep or a bath.
A sob broke fro
