Isabel’s POV
The hospital’s bright lights feel harsh, unforgiving as we leave the ER, a fresh bandage wrapped around Alexander’s arm.
We find ourselves in a small coffee shop within the building. I stare blankly at the coffee in front of me, tracing the rim of the cup. Words seem to escape me, questions I have don’t make it past my lips.
The silence stretches until, finally, I say, “Thank you.” It’s barely a whisper, but as the words leave my mouth, I feel a weight lift. “Thank you for saving me. Again.”
My heart still pounds in my chest, the adrenaline slowly fading, leaving behind a strange mixture of gratitude and confusion. I should feel relieved, but instead, there’s an unsettled ache that creeps into my bones. Why is this so hard to process? Why does everything feel so complicat
