Isla’s POV
The apartment is too quiet. Zayne is by the window when I walk back into the living room. He hasn’t moved much since I last saw him. Same posture, same tension in his shoulders.
Like he’s been standing there, staring out at nothing, trying to force something inside his head to make sense.
“Zayne.”
He turns slightly at the sound of my voice, not fully. Just enough to acknowledge me.
“Hey.”
His voice is low, careful. Like he’s measuring every word now. I step closer, stopping just behind him.
“Did you remember anything else?”
The question sits between us. He doesn’t answer immediately. And that hesitation, that’s what makes my chest tighten. Because it means there’s something, something he doesn't want to say.
Or doesn’t know how to.
“Zayne.”
He exhales slowly, then run
