IRIS’ P.O.V
The sixth day felt heavier than the five before it. Not louder. Not more dramatic. Just heavier, like the world had placed a hand on my chest and pressed down slowly. I woke before dawn again, the same way I had every day. The same way I would tomorrow. My body was exhausted, but my mind refused to shut up long enough to rest.
Blake still hadn’t opened his eyes.
His breathing was steady. His skin was warm. His heart was strong. But he stayed trapped in that silent place where I couldn’t reach him. Every time I brushed my fingers across his knuckles, a small part of me hoped he would twitch again. Hope was a strange thing. It could make you feel strong and hollow at the same time.
Irene was sitting beside the bed when I opened my eyes. She had fallen asleep sitting upright,
