Alina’s POV

The sound of the morning filtered in softly — footsteps in the hallway, nurses whispering, the faint clink of metal trays. But all I could hear was the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me.

It had been two weeks since the fire. Two weeks since Ares nearly slipped away.

The doctors called his recovery miraculous. I called it survival — stubborn, impossible, and entirely him.

He was still weak, his body still marked by burns that would take months to fully heal, but ...