Ethan
The cottage was silent except for the steady sound of Rosemary’s breathing. I had spent every moment of the past days by her side, refusing to leave. Every flicker of the bond between us gave me hope, but it wasn’t enough to ease the ache in my chest. She was so still, so unnaturally quiet, and I felt helpless, like I was failing her with every passing second.
I sat in the worn armchair beside the bed, my elbows resting on my knees, my hands clasped tightly as I watched her. Her hair fanned out over the pillow, a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin. She looked peaceful, almost as if she were simply sleeping, but the absence of her sharp wit, her fierce determination, left an empty ache that nothing could fill.
“Come back to me,” I whispered, the words a prayer as much
