All that was left : what remains after darkness?

CHAPTER 7

Jonas's POV

The blare of my ringtone yanked me out of sleep. My neck ached, stiff from being slumped against the window, and my back protested as I sat up. For a second I was disoriented, then the smell of asphalt, the dull hum of cars in the distance, and the looming white shape of the hospital snapped everything back into place.

I fumbled for my phone, squinting against the morning light. The screen was a wall of missed calls. Dad. Dad. Dad. Dozens of texts stacked one on top of the other.

Where are you?

Jonas, pick up the damn phone.

If you don't answer me in five minutes, I'm driving out there myself.

My chest tightened. I'd forgotten about everything else the second I saw Zara lying in that bed last night. I'd forgotten my phone, my dad, even myself.

I swiped to call him back. The line barely rang once before his voice exploded through the speaker.

"Jonas Reed, what the hell is wrong with you? You vanish in the middle of the night, don't answer your phone, and I wake up thinking—" He broke off with a harsh breath. "You scared the life out of me."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Dad, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to—"

"Where are you?" His tone was sharp, but beneath it I could hear the worry threading through.

I hesitated, glancing up at the hospital entrance. "The hospital."

That only made it worse. "The hospital? Are you hurt? Tell me you're not—"

"No. Not me." My voice softened. "It's her. The girl I told you about. The one I play games with."

There was silence on the other end, like he was putting the pieces together. He'd teased me enough times about "the mystery girl" who kept me glued to my screen late at night. But his voice, when it came, was quieter. "She's real."

"She's real," I whispered back. "And she needs me, Dad. Something happened. It's bad. I can't just leave her."

For a long time, all I could hear was his breathing. Then he sighed, deep and tired. "Son... you should've told me. Instead, you let me sit up all night thinking something happened to you."

Guilt clawed at me. "I know. I wasn't thinking."

He was quiet again, then: "Is she alone?"

"Yeah." My throat tightened. "She's got no one else right now."

Another pause. Then his voice came steady, low. "Alright. Stay with her. However long it takes until her family shows up. Don't let her go through this by herself."

Relief spilled out of me, a shaky breath I didn't know I'd been holding. "Thanks, Dad."

"You hear me, Jonas? You stay put. I'll cover the garage today. But when it's all said and done, we're gonna talk. You and me."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I promise."

When the call ended, I sat there in the silence of the car, staring at the hospital doors. My dad still didn't know everything, not about what Zara had lost, not about how broken she'd looked in that bed.

But he trusted me enough to stay.

And I wasn't going anywhere.

——

The call with Dad left me hollow and heavy at the same time. He was still upset, sure, but he'd told me to stay. That was enough. It gave me something solid to hold onto.

My stomach grumbled then, sharp and embarrassing, reminding me I hadn't eaten since yesterday. I hadn't even thought about food while sitting in her room, holding her hand like it was the only thing tethering me to the world.

I climbed out of the car, stretching the stiffness out of my legs, and headed toward the hospital doors. Inside, the air was sterile and cool, the scent of disinfectant clinging to everything.

The vending machine stood at the end of the hall, buzzing faintly. I dug around in my pockets, fishing out some crumpled bills and spare change, then pressed a few buttons at random. A bag of pretzels. A chocolate bar. A bottle of orange juice. Nothing fancy, but something, something that felt like care in the only way I could manage right now.

Balancing the snacks in my arms, I made my way back toward her room. My chest tightened the closer I got, nerves kicking in like I was about to face something bigger than myself.

When I pushed the door open, she wasn't asleep anymore.

Zara was sitting up slightly, her hair messy against the pillow, IV line still tugging at her arm. The nurse stood beside her, checking the monitor, murmuring something I couldn't hear. And then—

She looked up.

Her eyes found me instantly, and for the first time since I'd met her in person, she smiled. Small, tired, but real.

Something in my chest cracked wide open.

The nurse glanced back and gave me a knowing little nod, excusing herself quietly. "I'll give you two a minute."

I stepped inside, suddenly self-conscious about the snacks clutched in my hands. "Uh... vending machine haul," I said awkwardly, holding them up. "Not exactly gourmet, but... figured you might be hungry."

Her smile softened, a flicker of light through all the shadows on her face. "You thought of me."

"Of course I did," I murmured, setting the snacks on the table by her bed.

For the first time that morning, it felt like maybe… just maybe, the weight pressing down on both of us had lifted, even if only by an inch.

I set the pretzels and chocolate down, fumbling with the orange juice cap. "Don't judge me, okay? I didn't know what you'd want, so I just... panic-bought everything."

Her laugh was small, fragile, but it was real. "It's perfect. Better than hospital food already."

I handed her the bottle once I cracked it open. She took a slow sip, her hands still shaky. Watching her like that, frail but still trying, it made something twist hard in my chest.

When she lowered the bottle, her gaze lingered on me, curious. "Where did you sleep?"

I hesitated. "...Uh. Here."

"Here?" Her brows lifted.

"In my car." I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly very aware of how dumb it sounded.

She blinked. Then a smile tugged at her lips, wider this time. "You slept in your car? All night?"

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Wasn't gonna drive home. What if you woke up and I wasn't here?"

That made her go quiet. Her smile softened, something sad and warm flickering behind her eyes. "You didn't have to do that for me."

"Yeah, I did," I said, firmer than I meant to. "I wasn't gonna leave you alone in there."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The beeping of the monitor filled the silence, steady and calm. Then she shook her head faintly, a hint of teasing in her tone.

"You know, most guys would've just texted."

I smirked. "Yeah, well... I'm not most guys."

Her eyes lit with amusement, even through the exhaustion weighing her down. She leaned back against the pillows, studying me like she was still trying to piece me together. "No, you're not."

Something about the way she said it, soft, certain, sent my pulse racing.

She toyed with the edge of the blanket, still watching me. "So... your car. That's your thing, huh? Figures you'd sleep in it."

I chuckled under my breath. "Yeah, kinda. I work on cars with my dad. Garage job. He says I've got 'a gift with engines', whatever that means."

Her eyes softened with interest. "So you're like... really good at it?"

"Pretty good." I shrugged, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the pride. "I can take an engine apart and put it back together blindfolded. Cars make sense to me. People, not so much."

That earned me another smile, tired but genuine. "That's... actually kind of amazing."

I leaned against the chair by her bed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Dad wasn't too thrilled when he realized I vanished last night. Thought I got myself killed or something."

She tilted her head. "What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That you were here." My voice dipped, softer. "That you needed me."

Something flickered in her expression, surprise, maybe even a little guilt. Her gaze dropped to her hands. "He must think I'm some random girl on the other side of a screen."

I hesitated. "You're not just that. Not to me."

Her breath hitched, the weight of everything creeping back into her eyes. "Jonas... you know I can't stay here, right?"

The words landed heavy, like I'd been bracing for them all along.

"London," I said quietly.

She nodded, fingers twisting in the blanket. "It's the only way. My grandparents... they're the only family I have left. This place—" Her voice cracked. "It's just too much."

I wanted to argue. To tell her she didn't have to run, that maybe she could stay, that maybe I could be enough reason for her to. But the truth was, I couldn't take London away from her. Not after everything she'd lost.

So instead, I nodded, even though it hurt. "Yeah. I get it."

Her eyes met mine again, shimmering with something fragile. "I don't want you to think... that I don't care. Because I do."

"I know," I whispered, gripping the edge of the chair to keep from reaching for her. "I care too."

The silence stretched, heavy but alive with things neither of us dared say. The monitor beeped steadily between us, like it was measuring every heartbeat we were too scared to share.

Her fingers twisted the blanket as she spoke. "I already called my grandparents. They were worried sick when they found out... and they're sending someone here. Just to look after me until I'm strong enough to travel."

My stomach dropped, panic flaring before I could stop it. "Wait… what? They're taking you away already?"

She shook her head quickly, her voice firm but gentle. "No. Not yet. I'm not leaving today, Jonas. It's just... someone to stay close, bring me food, make sure I'm not alone. A bodyguard, really. They think I'll be safer that way."

The knot in my chest loosened, though not completely. My pulse was still pounding. "A bodyguard?"

"Yeah." She gave a tired little laugh, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sounds dramatic, right? But that's how they are. Overprotective. They don't want me lifting a finger until I'm out of here."

I leaned back in the chair, running a hand over my jaw, trying to process it. Someone else was coming. Someone official. Someone her grandparents trusted.

Which meant... someone who wasn't me.

"That's good," I said finally, even if it stung. "Means they care. Means you'll have someone making sure you're okay."

Her gaze flicked back to mine, softer this time. "But you stayed before they even knew what happened. You didn't have to, Jonas. You're not family. You're not... obligated."

"Maybe not," I murmured, my voice low. "But I wanted to."

She studied me for a long moment, something unspoken in her eyes. Then she smiled, small and fragile but real. "Then I guess I'm lucky. I've got both, my grandparents' protector, and mine."

My chest tightened at her words, heat rushing to my face. I looked down at my hands, gripping the chair to steady myself.

Perfect ✨ let's switch to Zara's POV and really let her take him in now that the fog of the night has cleared.

⸻

Zara's POV

Now that the haze in my head had lifted a little, I could actually see him. Really see him.

Jonas.

He wasn't just the boy from the glowing screen anymore, or the voice in my headphones on late nights. He was right here… real, solid, and... God, he was beautiful.

Honey-brown eyes, warm and clear, the kind that could hold you still without even trying. His curls matched them perfectly, rich brown, messy in a way that looked too good to be accidental. His jaw was sharp, chiseled, like it had been carved with intent, but softened by full lips that looked far too gentle for someone who worked with his hands all day.

And his build... broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his shirt, arms strong but not showy. I could almost imagine the strength it took to work in a garage, lifting, fixing, building. It clung to him naturally, not like he was trying to prove anything, but like strength just lived in him.

Then there was his height. 6'2, easily towering over me even though I wasn't exactly short myself at 5'8. Somehow, it didn't feel intimidating… it felt safe. Like if the world tried to crash in again, he'd be tall enough, strong enough, to hold it back.

But what caught me most, the thing that undid me completely, was his smile.

He had the prettiest smile I'd ever seen. Bright, unguarded, the kind that made my chest ache because it was so rare, so genuine.

And it was aimed at me.

I couldn't stop staring, my heart stumbling in my chest. How did I never realize before? All those nights playing games, laughing through headsets, sharing pieces of ourselves through a screen, how did I not imagine that this was the boy on the other side?

The truth was, he was even better than I'd ever pictured.

And that scared me more than anything.

I must have been staring too long, drinking him in like I'd never seen a boy before, because he shifted in the chair. His honey-brown eyes flicked to mine, caught me, and for a heartbeat neither of us looked away.

Instead of saying anything, he just gave this small, almost shy smile and rubbed the back of his neck, his curls falling slightly over his forehead. A flush rose on his cheeks, faint but unmistakable.

My own face went hot instantly. I snapped my gaze down to my blanket, wishing it would swallow me whole. God, had I been that obvious?

The air between us felt different suddenly, charged, warm, fragile. My chest tightened, and before I could find the courage to lift my eyes back to him..

The knock at the door pulled me out of the moment, and when it opened, the nurse stepped inside with a woman I hadn't seen before.

She wasn't what I expected. Not stiff, not stern. She moved with an ease that almost surprised me, tall and steady, dressed in simple jeans and a jacket. A large duffel hung from her shoulder, filled with the shape of clothes, food, and other essentials.

"This is Miss Rita," the nurse said warmly. "Your grandparents sent her to make sure you're cared for until you're strong enough to travel."

Rita offered me a small smile as she set the bag on the counter. Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was gentle, patient. "I brought some things you might need. Clothes, toiletries, a charger, even some snacks. Your grandparents didn't want you to worry about anything."

Her voice was soft, low, with an undertone that felt... weary, like someone who had carried her own share of heavy things. There was kindness in the way she looked at me though, the kind that made my throat tighten.

For a moment, I wondered what story lived behind her eyes.

Then her gaze drifted… slow, unhurried…to Jonas. Not sharp or suspicious, just curious. She gave him the same small smile she'd given me, one that somehow felt like she already knew he mattered.

Jonas shifted slightly, rubbing the back of his neck again, and I couldn't stop the way heat rushed to my face.

Something told me Rita noticed. But instead of commenting, she only turned back to me and said, "I'll be around, but I won't hover. Just call if you need me."

And with that, she gave me a nod, her quiet presence lingering even after the nurse stepped out behind her.

Jonas's POV

I excused myself after a while, mumbling something about the restroom. Truth was, my nerves were buzzing from being in the room with her, from Rita's quiet arrival, from everything. I needed a minute to breathe.

When I stepped back into the hall, Rita was standing by the door, her posture relaxed but attentive. She looked up the moment she saw me, her expression soft.

"Hi," she greeted, her voice lower now, gentler than before. "Jonas, right?"

I nodded, a little cautious. "Yeah... that's me."

She gave me a smile—small, warm, the kind that instantly disarmed me. "I just wanted to say thank you. Her grandparents are... beyond grateful for what you did. For staying with her, for helping her through something that bad."

I shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of my neck. Praise always felt weird. "I didn't really... I mean, anyone would've—"

"Not anyone," she cut in softly. "You did."

That quiet certainty in her tone made my chest tighten.

Rita tilted her head, studying me in that calm way of hers. "They wanted me to ask if there's anything they can do for you. To repay you."

I shook my head instantly. "No. I don't want anything. I just want her to be okay."

The truth slipped out before I could stop it. It hung there between us, heavier than I meant it to.

Rita nodded slowly, like she understood more than I was saying. "She will be. They'll make sure of it. Once she's well enough, she'll go back to London where it's safer. Where family's waiting."

London.

The word hit me harder than I expected. My stomach twisted, my chest tightening. I looked away, staring at the sterile hospital tiles like they had answers.

Rita didn't miss it. "You don't like the sound of that."

I let out a shaky breath, the frustration spilling out before I could stop it. "We've known each other for years online, you know? And I only just met her, face to face, for the first time. And it had to be like this, in a hospital, after something horrible. Now she's supposed to disappear to another country and I don't even know if I'll ever see her again. It's so f****d up."

The words tumbled out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't hold them back. It wasn't just sadness sitting in my chestit was anger too, at the timing, at the unfairness of it all.

Rita's expression softened even more, something unspoken flickering in her eyes—understanding, maybe even a little ache of her own.

"Life isn't fair like that sometimes," she said quietly. "But don't think for a second she won't carry this with her. People don't forget the ones who show up when the world falls apart."

Her words lingered, steadying me in a way I didn't expect.

After a long pause, she said softly, "You know... I can talk to her grandparents. Make arrangements. If you want, you could come visit her every couple of months. Stay connected. She doesn't have to just disappear from your life."

The weight in my chest shifted. Not gone, but lighter—like someone cracked a window open in a suffocating room.

"You'd do that?" I asked, my voice rough.

Rita gave a small nod. "If it matters to you—and to her—I'll make it happen."

The silence that followed stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak again, and pushed back from the table. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else as I made my way down the corridor.

Every step toward her room was a battle between relief and dread. Relief, because Rita's words had given me something to hold onto—a chance, however fragile, that I wouldn't lose Zara completely. Dread, because walking back in there meant facing the truth of how broken she looked, how small she seemed in that hospital bed.

The door clicked softly when I eased it open. The room was dim, only the steady beep of the monitor filling the silence. Zara lay where I'd left her, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that calmed and tortured me all at once.

I stood in the doorway longer than I should have, just watching her. A part of me wanted to go to her side, take her hand again, whisper promises I wasn't sure I could keep. Another part held me back, afraid of waking her, of saying too much, of unraveling.

Finally, I stepped inside, letting the door close behind me. My heart thudded hard as I crossed the room.