I stared at that envelope for two days without opening it. I couldn't even throw it away, I Just… stared.
It sat on the small table beside my hospital bed, quiet and patient, like it knew I’d give in eventually.
The nurses came and went, the doctor said I was stable, but he said it with that cautious voice that made me want to scream. Stable doesn’t mean safe. It just means not dead yet.
I spent those days trapped in my head, wondering how one night could twist my whole life into this. I should have seen it coming. The headaches, the weakness, the way fate always liked to play games with me.
I was tired of losing.
By the third morning, when the nurse brought breakfast and set it beside the envelope, I laughed.
“Even my toast is watching me,” I muttered. She smiled sadly, not getting
