Clare POV
I woke up in my own bed. The soft, familiar comfort of the blankets wrapped around me felt so real, so normal. The sun was peeking through the window, casting a warm, golden light across the room. I thought I was dreaming. The kind of dream where everything feels too good to be true. A part of me was afraid to open my eyes, afraid that as soon as I did, I would find myself back in the nightmare. I pinched myself, hard—enough to feel pain, enough to convince myself it was real.
And it was. I was awake.
But something was... off. A sense of disorientation, like the world around me was too perfect. Too quiet.
Then the door creaked open.
"Hey, chap. Breakfast is ready," Clark said, grinning at me from the doorway.
My breath caught in my throat. My heart seemed to stop for a moment. I sat up, blinking, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.
Clark. He was here. He was alive.
