ELENA

I woke to the smell of herbs—something earthy and clean—and scrambled eggs. My eyes flickered open to the sunlight and the sight of Julian, his back to me, working quietly near a window. Beside him stood Ryan, holding a small tray with an air of concentrated intent.

"Good morning, Elena," Julian said, turning slowly. He had the soft, reassuring smile of a doctor, but the deep lines of a man who hadn't slept in days.

"Morning," I mumbled, feeling heavier, stronger. I felt no lingering ...