Page 29 of Resurgent

As though this doesn’t happen almost every night.

I stay by her side longer than I should, watching the last traces of fear fade from her face. Admiring the way her face glistens in the slivers of moonlight reflecting off her tear-soaked cheeks.

For the briefest of moments, I imagine what it would be like if she woke up right now and saw me. Asked me why.

I don’t have a good answer.

Because I couldn’t stay away isn’t a good answer. Because I know exactly when the nightmares come isn’t better. Because somehow, somewhere along the way, this became the only place I feel like I’m doing something that matters. Because she matters.

Yeah. None of that would sound sane out loud.

I exhale slowly and turn back toward the chair I occupied only thirty minutes ago. There can’t be a single trace that I was here.

Once the chair is back in the correct spot, I leave her room the same way I came in—quiet, careful, invisible under the last hour of darkness.

My gaze drifts back to her one last time.

“See you tomorrow, Seiri.”

Chapter twelve

Annalise

The air’s cool enough to raise goosebumps across my arms when I step onto the worn patch of grass behind Korr's house. Dew still clings to the blades, sparkling in the early afternoon sun, and somewhere beyond the tree line, Kali lets out a lazy rumble that vibrates through the forest.

A week ago, the idea of standing on my own for more than a few minutes would've been laughable.

Today...

Today I'm going to prove I still belong in my own body.

Matt tosses a rolled-up exercise mat to me as soon as my feet touch the floor.

"I swear, if you fall before we've even started stretching, I'm telling everyone you lost a fight with a yoga mat."

Catching it against my chest with a grunt, I snap back, "I'd win."

"You'd win?"

"Oh yeah. I fight dirty."

He snorts. "You'd bite a yoga mat?"

"Hell yeah! If it started something, there’s no length I wouldn’t go to."

"I know I’m new to this, but I don't think that's how yoga is supposed to work."

"I don't know," I say, spreading the mat across the grass. "You've clearly never seen an aggressive downward dog."

He laughs loud enough to send a pair of birds scattering from a nearby pine.

Gods...I've missed hearing him really laugh.

It’s not the polite chuckle he’s given Sasha or even the instructors when they’ve come by and tried to ask a million questions without coming off as pushy.

Right now, it’s not the same strained smile he's forced every time I’ve woken him up with, yet another, late-night video call because I can’t fall asleep.

This one, the real one, reminds me everything hasn't fallen apart and that a piece of my home is always with me.