Chapter 6

The next morning, sunlight spills through the window like honey, warm and slow against my skin. My eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep. Every part of me aches, but it’s no longer the sharp, screaming pain. It’s duller now. Manageable. Healing.

I shift upright and blink away the blur, and that’s when I see them.

Hazel is sitting on the floor, legs tucked beneath her, peaceful and still like she’s been there a while. Next to her is a little girl with long blonde hair in a messy ponytail, pink leggings, and a sparkly shirt. She’s coloring, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrates.

She looks up and meets my eyes.

Big hazel ones. Just like Hazel’s. Round, soft, trusting.

A miniature copy.

And when she sees I’m awake, her whole face lights up like the sun came alive inside her.

“Hi!” she squeals. “I’m Callie! Mommy said we can color with you today.”

Her words tumble out with the kind of excitement only little kids can get away with. Her voice still has that adorable twist, baby sounds mixed with big words she’s proud of. She’s probably four, maybe five, but already owns every inch of her space like a little queen.

I don’t respond. Not right away. But I smile.

That seems to be enough.

“Wanna color?” she asks, scooting closer like I’m not a stranger at all. Like I’m hers already.

I glance at Hazel, who gives me a gentle smile, eyes soft with patience.

I nod.

Callie beams like I just gave her a unicorn. She grabs a princess coloring book and plops down beside me on the bed without hesitation, legs crossed, crayons ready. She flips to a fresh page and hands me a purple crayon like she knows it’s my favorite.

We color in silence. But it’s not awkward. It’s calm. Safe. Like we’re having a whole conversation without saying a word.

A few minutes pass before Callie looks up again, cocking her head.

“What’s your name?”

My crayon pauses mid-stroke. The question hangs in the air like it doesn’t belong there. Like it might crack something open if I let it.

Hazel doesn’t miss a beat. “Callie, baby, remember what we said about questions?”

Callie frowns, not pouting but close, and goes back to coloring.

Still, her question keeps echoing in my head.

Nobody’s asked.

Not Festar. Not Hazel. Not the doctor. Not anyone.

Like they didn’t want to know. Or maybe they were afraid to ask.

I stare at the cartoon princess in front of me, her crown half-colored. Then, slowly, I write five letters across the top of the page. The first time I’ve written my name in a long time.

Anna.

When I finish, I slide the book back to Callie.

She studies the page, all proud of our work, then pauses when she sees the letters.

“Mommy! She wrote something!”

Hazel leans over, curious, then freezes.

Her breath catches just a little.

“Anna,” she reads softly, like it means something sacred. Like it’s not just a name but a gift.

Callie squints. “The princess’s name is Anna? That’s not right. This is Cinderella.”

Hazel laughs gently. “No, honey. She’s telling you her name is Anna.”

Callie’s eyes grow huge. “Oh! That’s so pretty!”

She throws her arms around my middle in a spontaneous hug that knocks the wind out of me.

I don’t even think. I hug her back.

Tightly.

I forgot how small kids are. How warm. How real. She smells like strawberries and marker ink and something sweet I can’t name.

For a second, I forget everything else.

Then a voice speaks from the doorway.

“I think it’s a beautiful name.”

Low. Smooth. Familiar.

My eyes snap up.

Festar is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes locked on mine.

This time, I don’t flinch.

I just look at him.

Really look.

He’s ridiculously good-looking, and now that fear isn’t clawing at my insides, I can finally see it. The sharp lines of his jaw. The controlled stillness in his body. The heat buried behind those dark eyes. It’s not just handsome—it’s dangerous. But not in the way that makes me want to run.

In the way that makes me want to know what it feels like to touch him again.

And then I realize I’m staring.

Hard.

Heat rushes to my face and I drop my gaze, hoping no one noticed.

Festar clears his throat. “The doctor said you’re clear to leave the clinic, but you’ll need to check in again in a few days. He left a meal plan to help you regain strength and weight. No overexerting. Walking too much could set you back.”

I nod slowly, trying to stay focused, but his voice is like velvet rubbing against my skin.

All I can think about is that mouth. The way it moves. The shape of it.

Get a grip, Anna.

This man kidnapped you. Don’t forget that.

“Anna?”

Hazel’s voice snaps me back.

I nod again, sharper this time.

Festar watches me, unreadable.

“I can walk you back to the house. Or Hazel can, if that’s easier.”

The offer sounds polite. But there’s something else beneath it.

Something that says, Please choose me.

I stand up carefully, my legs still shaky. When I take a step toward him, his entire posture shifts. His arms uncross. His breath slows.

I stop in front of him.

Then, without warning, I lift my hand and touch his cheek.

He goes completely still.

My fingers brush the edge of his face, and the second I make contact, a shock of heat runs through me, sharp and electric, down my spine and into my toes.

I gasp and jerk back from the rush—but he catches me before I fall.

His arms wrap around me like they were meant to be there. Like I fit.

I look up at him, breathless, and he’s staring back like he felt it too.

His lips part, just barely. Like he might say something.

But he doesn’t.

Hazel coughs softly behind us.

Right. We’re not alone.

She gathers Callie’s things with a knowing look. “Nap time, little one. Come say goodbye.”

Callie runs back and hugs my leg again. “Color with me again, okay?”

“I will,” I whisper.

And I mean it.

When they leave, I turn back.

Festar hasn’t moved.

His eyes haven’t left mine.

And in them, I see something that knocks the breath right out of me.

He looks at me like I just gave him a reason to believe in something again.

Like my name lit up his world.

Like I might be his Christmas morning.