Isla’s POV
The room felt impossibly tight, even though I’d been standing in it for what seemed like hours. My chest pressed against my ribs as if the walls themselves were closing in, and every subtle movement in the room sent shivers through me.
Ronan’s eyes never left my face. Not even when Zayne shifted in the bed. Not when Rico straightened.
Not when the machines hummed softly behind us, indifferent to the way my pulse thudded too loud in my ears.
The words were still there. Hanging. Sharp around the edges.
It hadn’t sounded like a question. It had landed like something dropped and shattered—too sudden to catch, too late to pretend it hadn’t broken.
I stared at Ronan, mouth open just enough to breathe, but not enough to answer.
Because I didn’t know how to say yes without soundi
