Zoe POV

The hospital room is quiet. Clean. Safe.

I've been here for several days now. And for the first time in years, I feel cared for.

Aunt Miles visits every morning. She brings food that actually tastes good. Soup that doesn't burn my tongue. Bread that is warmly baked, smelling good. Fresh fruit cut into perfect pieces.

"I made your favorite," she says today, setting down a container. "Chicken and vegetable stew. No mushrooms."

My chest tightens.

'She ...