Rosalia — POV
I woke with a dull ache spreading through my skull, thirst clawing at my throat and dizziness pressing behind my eyes. I opened them slowly, clinging to a single, desperate thought.
Water.
"…Water," I whispered. My voice scraped out of me, dry and broken, barely human.
A glass appeared in front of my face. Warm water. I did not question it. I did not hesitate. I seized it and drank greedily, swallowing as if I had been deprived for years, as if my body feared it might never be given mercy again.
Only when the glass was empty—only when my shaking hands could no longer find another drop—did I finally lift my gaze.
And froze.
The face before me was not the one my heart had already reached for.
"…Why," I murmured, disbelief cracking my voice, "is it you?"
Henry.
He was holding my head carefully, one arm braced behind my neck as though afraid I might collapse again.
