Asena
A week passes.
Seven days of white walls, steady beeping machines, and hands that never quite leave me alone.
Seven days of them: Zavian and Caspian Hale.
I sit at the edge of the hospital bed now, fully dressed, my fingers smoothing over the fabric of a blouse I know costs more than anything I own. The room feels different today, it's emptier, like it’s already letting me go, and yet my chest feels tight in a way I don’t understand.
“You’re ready,” Zavian says from across the room and I glance up at him.
He’s watching me the way he always does now, quiet, observant and like he’s trying to read something I’m not saying.
“I’ve been ready for a while,” I reply.
It’s not entirely true but it’s close enough.
Caspian leans against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on me. “Yo
