(Ruby's POV)
We stood there in the small hospital room, the four of us wrapped in a silence that felt heavier than words. The machines beeped softly in the background. The light through the window was pale, filtered through clouds, but it still managed to catch the silver in my mother's hair.
I didn't want to let go of her hand. I had spent twelve years believing she was dead. Twelve years carrying the weight of that loss. And now she was here, warm and real and alive.
Mia was sitting on the edge of my mother's bed, her legs pulled up under her hospital gown. She looked small. Fragile. But her eyes were bright, watching Nicholas with a curiosity that reminded me of the little girl who used to follow me around the garden.
Nicholas cleared his throat. He was standing a little apart, like he didn't want to intrude on the moment. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders tense.
"I should give you some time," he said. "Alone."
