Celina’s POV
THE FIRST thing I became aware of was silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy silence that presses against your chest, the one that makes you feel like you’re still trapped in a nightmare. My eyelids fought me as I tried to open them, every blink sticky and slow, my body weighted down as if I were tied to the mattress.
I wasn’t in the tower anymore. No smoke, no flames, no glass raining down. Instead, I smelled clean linen and antiseptic, the air sharp enough to sting my nose. The walls were pale gray, bare except for a single lamp. It wasn’t a hospital. It was too private, too guarded. A safehouse.
My hand moved instinctively to my belly. Relief fluttered when I felt the faint thrum beneath my palm, a fragile heartbeat still echoing inside me. The baby was alive.
