Alina's eyes fluttered open, the movement slow and heavy, as if her eyelids were made of lead. She blinked several times, trying to steady a world that seemed to be tilting on its axis. The room was bathed in a soft, golden light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.
For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was or how long she had been drifting in the void of sleep.
Then, she felt a presence. Someone was sitting very close to her, their breathing steady and rhythmic. As her vision finally cleared, she saw her mother, Kathleen, sitting in a velvet armchair pulled close to the bed. Her mother's head was tilted back, her eyes closed in a light, uneasy slumber.
"Mom?" Alina's voice was a mere rasp, her throat feeling as though she had swallowed glass. She reached out a shaky hand and patted her mother's arm.
