Violet’s POV
I didn’t go straight home after that night in the hospital room with Ryan.
I couldn’t.
The second I closed my eyes, I would’ve seen him again the way he said please, like it was a word he wasn’t used to saying, like I was the only one who could break him with a syllable. And God help me, it had worked.
So instead, I found myself walking the city streets, my sneakers pounding against the concrete, my scrubs wrinkled and my hair pulled loose from its bun. I must’ve looked like a ghost, wandering past neon-lit diners and the midnight hum of taxis.
Five years. I had spent five years convincing myself I could live without him. That the bond had been nothing but a cruel trick of biology. That my life could be rebuilt brick by brick, chart by chart, patient by patient.
And in l
