= Amara =
I didn’t realize how hungry I was until Mikael set the tray down in front of me.
The scent alone—warm bread, broth thick with herbs, something faintly sweet—made my stomach twist in on itself. Not painfully. Just enough to remind me that my body was still trying to survive..
“Slow,” Mikael said quietly, pulling the chair closer to the bed. “You’re still healing.”
I nodded, though my hands were already trembling as I reached for the cup he offered. He steadied it without comment, fingers warm around mine, grounding in a way I hadn’t known I needed. The cup held broth—simple, nourishing. Nothing sharp. Nothing overwhelming.
The room was bathed in early morning light, pale gold slipping through windows I didn’t remember being there before. This wasn’t my room. It was too large.
