The bed rose. His body came forward slowly.
Even that movement drained color from his face.
He closed his eyes.
Priya placed one hand behind his shoulders. “Stay with me.”
“I’m here.”
“What do you feel?”
“Sick.”
“That’s expected. Keep breathing.”
His left foot touched the floor.
His injured side remained protected.
Sweat gathered near his hairline.
I wanted to stop them.
Everything in me rebelled against watching him suffer voluntarily. He had survived steel, surgery, swelling, and days of darkness. Surely he had earned stillness.
But stillness would not take him home.
Priya waited until his breathing steadied.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Good answer. We’re doing it anyway.”
Noah’s gaze snapped to mine.
I gave him the smallest smile.
“One breath,” I said.
He drew it in.
“Another.”
He obeyed.
On Priya’s count, they lifted him.
Noah made a sound low in his throat.
His left foot bore weight.
His body shook violently.
For one second, he was standing.
For two.
