Talia's POV
I wanted to scream.
When Belle walked into that room, it felt like the walls closed in tighter, like the machines beside me hummed louder, mocking the silence trapped in my throat.
I saw her before she saw me. That face sharp, polished, proud. Her heels clicked against the hospital tiles like a countdown to judgment. Even here, in a place that stripped people bare, she walked in with control. The kind of control I used to think was strength. Now it just felt cruel.
And when her eyes landed on me, I knew.
She hadn't come out of pity. She hadn't come to comfort. She came to look. To measure. To decide whether I was even worth her attention at all.
Her gaze felt like a blade.
I tried to speak. God knows I tried. My lips twitched against the tube lodged inside my throat. My chest fought the rhythm of the ventilator. My fingers trembled, straining to lift, to signal, to do something. Nothing worked.
Only a weak, broken sound slipped out. Not even a shadow of my voice.
