Aria’s POV
I didn’t expect hospitals to feel this suffocating. Not with all the white walls, the clean sheets, the steady beeping of machines. But after three days sitting in the same chair beside Cassian’s bed, I felt like the walls were pressing in, squeezing the air out of me.
Three days. Three nights. Barely any sleep. I’d been here the whole time, running on caffeine and nerves, and still refusing to leave.
Cassian had been restless since the second day. He kept tugging at the IV like it was a shackle, throwing the blanket off, scowling at the monitors. He insisted he was fine, even though his ribs were tightly taped and his side looked like it had been smashed with a baseball bat. Stitches ran across his skin where claws had torn into him.
“I’m not staying here another damn day,”
