(Sanya's POV)
Cold.
So cold.
I drift in and out, consciousness slipping through my fingers like water. Sometimes I'm aware of the grass beneath me, damp and scratchy. Sometimes I see stars overhead, impossibly bright.
Sometimes I feel nothing at all.
The sky lightens. Dawn approaching. Or maybe it's been days. I can't tell.
Lying on my side. Still in the garden. Still wet, though the water has soaked into the ground and my ruined dress.
He left me here.
All night.
The thought should spark something—rage, despair, anything. But I'm too numb. Too empty.
My eyelids are too heavy to keep open.
I let them fall.
Warmth.
That's what finally pulls me back.
Warmth spreading across my back where the worst pain screams. Soothing. Healing.
My eyes flutter open to find the sun fully rise
