The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in the air. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor filled the silence—an almost soothing, almost terrifying reminder that she was still there, still fighting her way back to the world. Claude sat slumped in the chair beside the hospital bed, his shirt wrinkled and his hair in disarray. Dark circles framed his eyes, evidence that he hadn't left her side for days.
When Mio finally stirred, it started with a twitch of her fingers. Claude's sharp eyes caught it instantly. He straightened, heart thundering in his chest, afraid he had imagined it. But then she moved again—her lashes fluttered, her lips parted, and a faint breath escaped.
"Mio?" His voice was hoarse, cracking slightly. He leaned closer, gripping her hand as if it were his lifeline. "Hey, sweetheart… can you hear me?"
