Celeste

He woke up on a bright afternoon, two days later.

“Celeste.”

My head snapped up. He was looking at me—groggy, pale, but looking at me with those familiar eyes, and I felt the last knot in my chest finally come loose.

“You’re awake.” I stood, moving closer, blinking fast. “You’re actually awake.”

“Did I scare you?” he asked. His voice was rough and faint.

“Terribly,” I said. A sound escaped me, half laugh, half sob. “You scared me so badly; I don’t think I ...