ZARA'S POV
The scent of antiseptic still lingered faintly in my nostrils as we pulled into the driveway. The ride home from the hospital had been quiet. Too quiet.
Zayd hadn’t said much beyond a soft “Are you okay?” when I got into the car. I gave him a curt nod, not quite ready to forgive or forget how everything spiraled. From the tea, to the blackout, to waking up in a sterile white hospital room with machines quietly monitoring my every breath. It was terrifying. And he had let it happen.
As the car door clicked open, I stepped out slowly, holding onto the handle for balance. My legs still felt weak, like they hadn’t yet forgiven me for collapsing in the hallway.
Zayd reached out to support me, but I stepped back quickly.
“I’m fine,” I said.
His hand froze midair before he
