Kaida
The morning sunlight filtered through the thin hospital curtains as I made my way to Bastian’s room, a sense of apprehension sitting heavy in my chest. I knew he hated hospitals—hated being confined, hated feeling powerless. But after everything that had happened, he needed to rest. He needed to recover fully, and staying here was the only way he was going to do that.
To my surprise, when I opened the door, Bastian was on his feet, tugging his jacket over his shoulders with determined hands. His movements were slow, though, a stiffness in his posture that betrayed how weak he still was.
“Bastian,” I said, frowning as I stepped inside, “what are you doing? You’re not leaving, are you?”
He glanced at me, his expression set in that familiar stubborn way. “I’m not staying here any lo
