Zayne’s POV
The silence after the call was the worst part. It wasn't a peaceful, calming silence. It was a vicious, mocking emptiness that pressed in on my ears, screaming the absence of the one thing I desperately needed to hear Sky’s voice, a footstep, a damn heartbeat. The line had gone dead. . . click. . .and then the sound of that cheap, plastic phone being deliberately, violently smashed. I knew it. I felt the impact of it against the concrete in my own chest.
I stood frozen in the middle of the third-floor hallway, the discarded phone clutched in my hand, its screen displaying the "Call Ended" message like a sentence. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, usually a sterile reassurance of order, now felt like a suffocating mockery.
The moment she hung up, the entire situation cry
