…His small hand tightened around mine, sending a surge of relief that almost buckled my resolve. My son was awake, and maybe, just maybe, we had a chance.
We lay there a moment longer, listening to the oppressive silence that followed Ethan’s departure. It was a quiet filled with possibilities—none of them comforting. I focused on the rhythmic rise and fall of Caleb’s breath as the world around us held its breath, waiting for our next move.
“We need to get up slowly,” I whispered, barely daring to break the quiet. Caleb squeezed my hand in acknowledgment, his small gesture a lifeline in the swirling sea of fear.
