Louis's POV
Her eyes locked on mine, wide and terrified, her breaths coming too fast. It was as if she didn't recognize me at first. The panic in them made me so concerned, but when she saw me—really saw me—I noticed the fear soften, just a little.
"Baby… what's wrong?" My voice was low, careful, though the worry in my chest made it tight.
She didn't answer. Instead, her trembling hands rose and cupped my face, holding me firmly as if she needed proof that I was real. Her gaze searched me desperately, scanning every line, every shadow of my face, like she expected me to vanish or shift into something else.
I furrowed my brow, leaning closer into her palms. "Olivia, it's me," I whispered, my thumb brushing her wrist where her pulse thundered. "I'm here. It's Louis."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Only the sound of her breathing—shallow, uneven, frantic.
