For a moment, no one seemed to breathe.
Egypt's small hand tugged at my sleeve again, pulling me back into the present.
I blinked the remnants of the memory away, forcing my heartbeat to slow as the harsh images of the past dissolved into the white glow of the hospital room.
"Mom… are you okay?" she whispered.
Paris nodded beside her, her eyes darting between me and the three men waiting on the other side of the room. Cairo watched too, his expression soft but filled with worry.
Behind all of them stood Sergio Lincolm.
And I hated the worried look he was giving me.
It felt like a hand reaching into wounds he had carved into me long ago, now suddenly trying to soothe them. It felt unfair. It felt too late.
But my children were watching.
So I swallowed everything, the pain, the trembling in my chest, the urge to scream and forced myself to breathe.
"I'm fine, sweethearts. Go talk to them now.." I murmured.
Egypt's face brightened instantly.
