Delia ran. She ran through the long, sunlit hallway, her heart pounding a frantic, hopeful rhythm against her ribs. The scattered groceries, the half-formed questions, the strange, happy energy of the house—it all disappeared, replaced by a single, all-consuming focus on the door at the end of the corridor.
"Slow down, Delia!" Amber called out, running behind her, her own face a mess of happy tears and laughter.
But Delia wasn't listening. She reached the heavy oak doors of the master bedroom and pushed one open, the wood cool against her trembling hands. She stopped abruptly in the doorway, gasping for breath, her entire world narrowing to the scene before her.
He was awake.
