I freeze, my hand hovering over the keyboard. She keeps talking, but I can’t hear her voice over the roar of angry, anguished blood in my ears.
Because deep down, behind the walls I’ve built around my heart, I’ve started to wonder the same thing.
A mother knows when the monsters retreat.
After forty-eight hours of hell, Sofiya’s fever breaks like a wave crashing against the shore—violent at first, then gradually receding until only a subtle warmth remains.
The doctors confirm for the umpteenth time what I already knew: that it was just a virus, nothing sinister. Definitely nothing engineered by our growing list of enemies. No poison, no attack. Just the ordinary, run-of-the-mill suffering that comes with being human.
Ordinary. What a f*****g concept.
I watch Vince touch his lips to o
