IRIS’ P.O.V
The moment Blake went back to his room and the door shut behind him, the house felt too quiet. Too still. Like the walls themselves were holding their breath.
I sat alone in the living room, staring at the flames in the fireplace. They crackled softly, but even that small sound felt loud in the silence pressing around me.
He was dying.
He was dying and pretending he was fine.
He lied with a straight face. He smiled through it. He made jokes. He stood on his own feet and walked with steady steps. Anyone else would believe he was getting better.
But Irene’s words twisted in my chest.
He was fading.
And he thought he had to face it alone.
My hands curled into fists. My throat burned. I pressed my forehead to my knees and squeezed my eyes shut.
I couldn’t breathe in that
