KAEL
From the moment I carried her out of that hospital bed, I knew. Something was wrong with Aria, something deeper than exhaustion, heavier than sickness.
It clung to her like a shadow I couldn't peel away. She didn't fight me the way I expected. No fire, no claws. Just silence. And that silence cut deeper than any of her words ever had.
In the car, I kept glancing at her. Her face turned toward the window, pale against the glass, eyes blank like she wasn't even here. I would've given anything for her to scream at me, to curse me, to shove me away. At least then she'd be present, alive. But this—this was her drifting, and I had no way of following her into whatever hell she'd fallen.
So I told myself the only thing I could bear to believe: Get her safe first. Fix the rest later. But even as I repeated it, I felt the lie in my chest. What if there was no fixing this? What if I'd already lost her, and I was just carrying around a body that didn't want to breathe anymore?
