Ariella's POV
As Francis’s body crumpled to the ground, the glass slipped from his grasp, shattering against the cold stone with a sharp, echoing crack. I froze, unable to comprehend the scene unfolding before me. He had always exuded such strength and vitality; his sudden collapse seemed like a cruel illusion, a nightmare I desperately wanted to wake from. But the oppressive silence that filled the room was all too real. My heart pounded violently against my ribs as I cradled his limp form in my arms.
“Francis,” I whispered, voice quaking as I hugged his head against my chest. His body was unnervingly heavy, his presence too final. My fingers trembled as they sought his pulse, a futile search for life in his still, cold skin.
Tears clouded my vision, yet I couldn’t look away from his
