Zyron's POV
Silence filled the room the moment her friends left.
The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound between us — a faint, mechanical noise that couldn't drown out the ache inside my chest.
Trixy sat upright in her hospital bed, her face pale under the soft white glow of the overhead lights. The thin blanket covered her legs, her hands resting motionless on top. Even the faint smell of antiseptic in the air couldn't hide the lingering scent of her — familiar, comforting, but now unreachable.
I watched her quietly.
She wouldn't look at me.
Her eyes were distant, like she was searching for something that wasn't me anymore.
I took a seat on the chair beside her bed, every movement heavy, uncertain. My throat was dry, my voice almost trembling when I finally spoke.
"How are you feeling?"
Her gaze flickered toward me for a moment, then away. "I'm fine," she replied — flat, emotionless.
Two simple words, but they sliced through me like a blade.
