The first thing I remember after blacking out was cold air.
Not just "oh, it's chilly" kind of cold.
The kind that cuts through your skin and makes you realize you're alive.
My eyes fluttered open and I was in… not my bed. Not my apartment.
Somewhere white. Quiet.
Too clean to be real life.
A hospital.
And then it hit me — the airport, the tears, the way Ethan's words were still echoing in my head like they owned me.
You're nothing to me, Ava.
I felt my chest tighten like the walls were closing in.
"Hey… you're awake."
A voice came from beside me, deep but soft.
I turned my head and saw him. The stranger from the airport.
The one who caught me when my legs gave up.
Dark hair, messy like he didn't care, and eyes that studied me too much.
"I— I'm sorry," I whispered, even though I didn't know why.
He shook his head. "Don't apologize. You looked like you needed help. So… I helped."
That should've been the end of it, right?
Some stranger saves you, maybe buys you water, and that's it.
But instead, he leaned back in his chair, like he was about to drop something insane.
"You don't have to go back," he said.
I frowned. "What?"
"You're hurting. I can see it. You can't stay here… wherever here is for you. Come with me."
And I swear, I almost laughed, because who even says that?
But then he added, "I'm going back to Berlin. You'll be safe there."
Berlin.
A city I'd never been to.
A city Ethan would never think to look for me in.
I should've said no. I should've been careful.
But I thought about the empty apartment waiting for me.
The whispers. The pity. The fact that Ethan would probably move on like I never existed.
So I asked the only question that mattered:
"When do we leave?"