Heather stood by the window of the hospital room, staring at Caius through the glass. She could barely hear what the doctor beside her was saying. She had completely zoned him out.
Her eyes stayed fixed on Caius.
It felt strange to see him like this—lying there, so still, so… human.
Caius always carried himself like nothing could touch him. He was untouchable, invincible in a way. He carried that air everywhere he went. And for the longest time, she believed it too.
But now… now he looked small, vulnerable. His face was bruised, cuts scattered across his skin, a bandage wrapped around his forehead.
Wires and tubes were attached to his arms, monitors beeping quietly beside the bed.
Her chest tightened with a guilt she couldn't shake.
If she hadn't called him again… if she'd just left things the way they were, maybe none of this would've happened.
