Kafziel lay still on the hospital bed, his body resting but his mind refusing to follow.
The ceiling above him was the same dull white he had been staring at for hours, yet it felt distant now, like it belonged to another place entirely.
It was an accident, he told himself again.
The words repeated in his head like a mantra, something to cling to so he wouldn’t drift too far into the what-ifs.
Just an accident.
He swallowed slowly, his throat dry.
I don’t remember her face.
No matter how hard he tried, the image refused to sharpen. Every time he reached for it, it dissolved—edges blurring, features fading away before he could grasp them.
But the absence frustrated him more than the memory itself.
Because something was there.
She was familiar, he thought, his brow tightening sligh
