Phantom’s POV
Maryelle’s silence was louder than words. It was in the way her eyes darted away from mine, the way her laughter faltered mid‑breath, the way her shoulders stiffened when I reached for her. Silence had become her language, and it was a language of guilt.
I confronted her again that night. “Maryelle,” I said, voice low, steady, the kind of tone that carried both warning and plea. “You’re slipping further away from me. I feel it. We have to figure out a solution to these nightmares you’re having.”
She froze, guilt flashing across her face like lightning. “It’s the… it’s the dreams. They’re so real. They confuse me.”
Dreams again. Always dreams.
I cupped her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Dreams can’t take you from me. I will figure out a way to permanently fix
