–Sophia–
My husband woke up after three days.
Three days that felt like a lifetime stretched thin across my chest.
He was finally moved out of the ICU—out of that cold, merciless room—and back into our private space. Ours. Where he belonged.
I held his hand, pressing soft kisses against his knuckles, as if grounding him back into me.
He smiled.
God… he smiled.
He wasn't fully paralyzed anymore. He could turn his head now—slowly, carefully—and look at me with that same devastatingly handsome smile that always made my heart stumble.
I leaned in and kissed his forehead, lingering there.
His gaze drifted downward.
To my belly.
A soft giggle escaped me. I turned my back to him carefully, mindful not to strain his arm, guiding his hand instead. I slipped it gently beneath my shirt and pressed it against my stomach.
"There you go, hubby."
His fingers rested there, warm and hesitant—like he was touching something sacred.
"B-beautiful," he murmured.
