Zayn’s POV:
“Alina!” I called as soon as I stepped in, but the house answered with silence. For a second I thought she’d already come back from the hospital. I headed straight for her room.
The door creaked, and there she was — sprawled on the floor. My chest tightened and my feet found the rug a beat later. “Alina.” I hurried to her, kneeling beside her body. Up close, her eyes were wide and rimmed with salt; tears had tracked hot paths down her cheeks. She didn’t look at me; she stared past me up at the ceiling, pupils unfocused.
“Are you okay?” I asked. My voice sounded small.
She scoffed, a sound that didn’t match the shaking of her hands. “Am I okay, Zayn?” Her tone was oddly amused. “Should I be okay?” A nervous chuckle escaped her, and something cold crawled under my skin. What
