**LILA’S POV**
I wake up with swollen eyes and no plan.
Morning light leaks through the curtains in thin, pale bands that stripe the wall like quiet accusations. My head throbs. My throat burns. My lashes feel stiff with dried tears. For a moment, I stay very still, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that if I do not move, nothing else will move either.
That this is just another morning.
It is not.
The realization does not hit like a punch. It seeps in. Slow. Cold. Something essential has been removed, and my body is still waiting for it to come back. I feel hollow, like there is too much room inside my chest and no way to fill it. I press my palm there, fingers splayed, as if I can physically hold myself together.
Nothing answers.
No warmth. No pull. Just a dull ache
