I can’t stop shaking.
It’s subtle, maybe only something I can feel, but it’s there—lingering beneath my skin like static. I try to pull myself together, but it’s like my body has forgotten how to breathe without feeling like it’s breaking.
Karako sits at the edge of my hospital bed while Clary stands at the window, arms crossed, trying so hard to stay composed even though I know she’s barely holding it together. Neither of them says anything for a while, which I appreciate more than I can put into words. The silence isn’t heavy—it’s understanding.
But then Karako reaches out, her fingers curling gently over mine.
“Aria,” she says softly, “you don’t have to pretend with us.”
And that’s it. The final thread that was keeping me stitched together snaps.
The tears come fast and hot, burni
