Chapter 57: The Ache of Silence

Gray’s POV The first thing he remembered clearly was her absence. Not the machines. Not the sterile scent of the hospital. Not the dull ache behind his eyes or the lingering fog in his chest. It was the absence. Of her. He opened his eyes to a world he no longer recognized — and the only thing that had felt steady in the chaos was the girl sitting at his bedside. Until she wasn’t. Gray stared at the ceiling, still half-lost in the haze of his own confusion, trying to piece together the fragmented images flickering behind his eyelids. Her voice. Her hand in his. Her running. He flinched at the memory — not the pain in his body, but the one in his chest. The crack in her voice. The hurt in her eyes when he’d told her to go. When he’d made her go. He hadn’t meant it. God, he hadn