Sally's POV
The steady rhythm of medical equipment pulls me from sleep, a sound that doesn't belong in my bedroom. Pale morning light filters through unfamiliar blinds, and for a moment confusion clouds my thoughts.
Then I feel the warmth pressed against my back, the protective arm curved around my waist, and everything rushes back to me. Philip shifts behind me with a drowsy murmur, and my heart nearly stops when I see movement in the bed across from us.
Karl sits propped against his pillows, very much alive and watching me with those familiar dark eyes. His complexion still carries traces of yesterday's pallor, but healthy color has returned to his cheeks. When our gazes lock, a gentle smile spreads across his face.
"Good morning," he says, his voice gravelly from sleep but beautifully warm.
Philip groans beside me, dragging a hand down his face without opening his eyes. "You look absolutely terrible."
A weak chuckle escapes Karl. "Right back at you, brother."
