Chapter 10

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Hours later, a flicker of life returned to Sarah's eyes.  She stirred, her eyelids fluttering like the wings of a trapped bird.

  John, who had been sitting beside her, his hand clasped tightly in hers, watched her with a mixture of hope and anxiety. 

He had barely slept, his gaze fixed on her face, his heart pounding with every slight movement she made.

As Sarah's eyes finally opened, a wave of relief washed over him. 

He leaned closer, his face filled with concern.

"Sarah,"

he whispered, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"You're awake."

She blinked slowly, her gaze unfocused, her mind still clouded with the remnants of her unconscious state.

She looked at John, her eyes wide and confused. 

"John?"

she murmured, her voice weak and raspy.

He smiled, a weary but genuine smile that reached his eyes. 

"It's me, love,"

he said, his voice filled with tenderness.

  "You're alright now."

He quickly rose from the bed and went to the small table beside it. 

He had been preparing a simple meal, a comforting bowl of ginger and chicken soup, hoping it would help her regain her strength.

He carefully blew on the spoon, making sure the broth was cool enough for her to eat.

Sarah's eyes fell upon her husband, her gaze drawn to the spoon he held out to her.

She saw the concern in his eyes, the way he was carefully blowing on the broth, the way he was extending it to her mouth with such gentle care.

  She felt a surge of warmth, a sense of security that she hadn't felt since she had collapsed.

"You have to eat so that you regain your strength, love,"

he said, his voice soft and reassuring.

But Sarah hesitated.  She looked at the spoon, her mind filled with doubt.

She had been so ill, so vulnerable, and now she was surrounded by people she didn't fully trust.

She wondered if the old woman had somehow tampered with the soup, if she had poisoned it, if she was trying to harm her.

John quickly noticed her hesitation, his brow furrowing with worry.

  "Don't worry,"

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