Noah
Two moths after
The sterile corridor swallows my footsteps as I approach her room. My hand trembles on the cold metal handle. One breath. Two. I push open the door.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The machines' rhythmic chorus greets me, a grim reminder of why I'm here. Why she's here. My Irina.
"I'm back, Amore," I whisper, though I know she can't hear me. Can she?
I cross the room, my eyes fixed on her still form. The harsh fluorescent light casts shadows beneath her closed eyes, hollowing her cheeks. I search for any flicker of movement, any sign that she's still in there, fighting to return to me.
Nothing.
My fingers find hers, intertwining with her limp hand. So cold. Was she always this cold?
"You should be warm," I murmur, lowering myself into the chair beside her bed. "You were alw
