Giving Her Back Her Past
ELIJAH’S POV:
THREE WEEKS LATER:
It had been more than a month since Hannah had been discharged from the hospital and returned home to us. And honestly, she’d been doing remarkably well, all things considered. Her physical wounds were healing beautifully. The burns on her legs were fading to light pink scars. Her lungs had recovered almost completely from the smoke) damage. She could breathe normally again, speak without pain, and laugh without coughing.
But earlier this week, she’d finally had enough of my overprotective behavior.
She’d cornered me in our bedroom after the kids had gone to school, her hands on her hips and with that determined look on her face that I’d learned meant she was about to tell me something I probably needed to hear but didn’t want to.
“Elijah, we need to talk,” she’d said firmly.
I’d immediately panicked, my mind jumping to worst-case scenarios. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Did something happen? Do we need to call the doctor?”
“No,” she’d said, holding up a hand to stop my spiral. “That’s exactly what we need to talk about. This. Your constant worry.”
I frowned, confused. “I don’t understand.”
She’d taken a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. “I really, truly appreciate all the care you’ve been giving me. I mean the princess treatment. I love being taken care of this way, I really do. But Elijah, I’m not made of glass. I’m not going to shatter if you let me do normal things.”



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