When Ahcehera woke up, the warmth of the sun's rays filtered through the hospital room's curtains.
She blinked, adjusting to the light, and was immediately startled to find herself lying beside Richard.
She sat up quietly, careful not to disturb him, and her gaze softened when she saw him still sound asleep. His expression, usually so guarded, was peaceful, almost vulnerable.
Without a word, she slipped out of bed and carefully pulled a blanket over him. As she adjusted it to his shoulders, her mind raced with questions.
Did he move me last night? But why would he?
She stretched her arms and rolled her neck, wincing at the stiffness from sleeping in such an awkward position.
How did I not wake up when he moved me? she wondered, frowning slightly. And why did I sleep so peacefully in a bed with someone who still believes I killed his brother?
