Callen was gone when Aisha finally lifted her head.
She didn’t remember him leaving.
Only that at some point—between the shaking, the crying, the hours of sitting curled on the floor—his presence had receded.
The crushing weight in the room was lighter now. The air no longer felt charged, no longer felt like it might split open if she breathed wrong.
He had left her space.
That, somehow, hurt almost as much as everything else.
Aisha sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself, eyes red and unfocused.
Her stomach still churned. Her mind kept replaying the image she couldn’t unsee—bone shifting, muscle tearing, the impossible made real.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
She flinched.
Before she could answer, it opened.
Amara stepped inside.
She looked perfectly comp
