Wreckage and Reunions

ROMAN

The steady beep of medical machines filled the silence between us. I sat beside Vanessa, both of us watching our son's chest rise and fall beneath the stark white hospital sheets. Fabian looked so small in that bed—smaller than the confident, defiant boy who had stood before me just hours ago.

"He's strong," I said, my voice rough from hours of disuse. "Like his mother."

Vanessa didn't look up, just kept her eyes fixed on Fabian's pale face. Her hand hadn't left his since I entered the room three hours ago. We'd been sitting in this heavy silence, united only by our shared terror.

"The doctors say he'll make a full recovery," she finally whispered. "The wound wasn't as deep as they first thought."

I nodded, relief washing through me again. "Thank the Moon Goddess."