When His Eyes Opened Novels & Stories

I ate only when someone forced me to, and even then I stayed close enough to hear if he stirred. And then, one evening, his fingers twitched. I froze, staring at his hand. “Julian?” Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened. They were heavy and glassy, but they were his eyes—stormy, endless, alive. My chest cracked wide open at the sight of them. “You came back,” I breathed, tears rising before I could stop them. He tried to speak, but only a rough sound left his throat. I poured water, held it to his lips, and guided him gently as he swallowed. His hand brushed mine, weak but real, and I almost broke right there.

I felt like throwing a tantrum over those silly words, but I still couldn’t open my mouth; it felt glued shut with an unbreakable force. “Yes, my sweet mum is awake,” he said, his voice sounding emotional. No way; I need to find out what's going on. I tried again, gradually opening one eye despite the sudden brightness that shone through it. That was it. I successfully opened both eyes partially. A white-coated frame like a cloud greeted my sight, and for a moment, I felt as if I were in the midst of clouds. “Mum,” he called out again. I squinted to see his beaming face with a smile, the one I had longed for in the darkness, and a lone tear fell from my eye.

Taking one hard breath, with all the strength I had left, I finally opened my eyes, only to stare into deep pools of black eyes staring at me with not an ounce of emotion. “Oh Look, The princess is finally awake!”

"Nmmaa." The babies cooing around him made his smile deepen as he pulled back to give them each one more glance. "Thank you little ones." He saw Kyle try to reach out to him, but in that second, his sight faded off. The next time his eyes fell open, the familair ceiling and light made it hard for him to adjust. His brows furrowed in discomfort and he let out a groan as he moved his body up what felt like a bed. When he had his body sat up, he pressed on his eyes to get his sight back, then he tried again. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room, though slightly blurry, he didn't miss the two figures that stood in front of the bed with their mouths open in a gape.

A full, glorious cry that ripped through the sky like lightning. Just then, my eyes snapped open— Back. To the waking world. Chest heaving. Limbs tangled in sheets. And above me— Someone was watching. Smiling. Waiting.

He inhaled slow and deep, eyes fluttering shut like he’d just smelled the best meal of his life. When his eyes opened again, they weren’t green anymore. They were glowing gold. Wolf eyes. And they were locked on me.

I loved him. I loved him enough to stay inside the wreckage beside him even knowing the walls could collapse on both of us. My gaze drifted back to his mouth. To the faint movement of his breathing. And that was the exact moment his eyes opened. No warning. No gradual stirring. No sleepy confusion. His eyes simply opened and locked onto mine instantly. The haze was gone from his expression now. No feverish delirium remained behind his eyes. His gaze was sharp, clear, devastatingly focused.

Arlo gets off the couch, finally, and comes and sits between us and looks up at both of us with the one white ear and the amber eyes and the complete confidence of a dog who considers himself central to all important decisions. He is not wrong.

As expected , the world went blank . The next day however , a few hours before the ceremony , his eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw .. was his own head , eyes and mouth open , blood clotted right below it . It was strange , as if he was looking into a mirror except it was distorted and showed what he felt like inside instead of what he actually looked like . He backed away quickly with a rapid heartbeat . With a hand to his heart , he took a deep breath . " Living for the pack it is then . " He told himself lowly .

As if leaving him no other choice but to come back. Alexander’s throat worked. His breath caught. And then, slowly, he gave in. His lashes fluttered. His eyes opened—halfway at first, reluctant—then wider despite himself, searching before he could stop it. But when his eyes fully opened, it wasn’t desert roses. Not myrrh. Not the silken hush of a bed that belonged to a different life. Grey met him instead. Alexander swallowed, and the motion felt too large in his throat. Because the truth settled fully the moment his eyes did.