SCARLETT
The door clicked shut behind Zayden, and the silence that followed felt like a scream held underwater—muffled, strangled, endless.
I stood there, paralyzed.
His final words played on a loop, relentless and echoing through the hollowness of my chest.
"Then I’ll wait... until you do."
Wait for me. For what? For the version of me that doesn’t exist anymore? Or the one still clawing to breathe under the weight of everything I’ve buried?
My hand drifted to the bathroom counter, gripping the cold edge of the porcelain sink like it could somehow anchor me. I stared at my reflection under the hospital’s sterile lighting—too white, too harsh, too real.
I barely recognized her.
My eyes were red and swollen, the skin beneath them bruised with exhaustion. My cheeks splotchy, lips raw
