Kieran’s POV

Healing is supposed to be obvious.

It’s supposed to arrive loudly—pain retreating in dramatic waves, strength surging back like a victorious army reclaiming lost ground. That’s how people talk about it, anyway. Like recovery announces itself with certainty.

Mine doesn’t.

Mine slips in quietly, almost politely, as if afraid I might notice and challenge it.

I wake before dawn, the sky outside my window still bruised with night. For a moment, I don’t move. I just lie ...