Willow woke slowly, the way someone surfaces from deep water—not startled and not rushed, but rising through layers of warmth until the world around her began to shape itself again. For the first time in days, she didn't wake to fluorescent lights or the rigid hospital mattress or the sharp, suffocating fear that usually clenched her chest before she was fully conscious. Instead, she woke to stillness.
The bed beneath her was soft but supportive. The sheets were cool where they brushed her calves, warmer where they tucked around her waist. Pale morning light filtered through the curtains, gentle enough not to sting her eyes. Somewhere nearby, a city moved through its morning routine, but inside the suite, time felt suspended—slowed to accommodate her body's limits.
