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“She’ll need a full psychological evaluation. In cases like this, we assess the risk of further self-harm. She won’t be discharged until we’re confident she’s safe.”

The words sit heavy in the air. Roman’s hand lands on my shoulder, anchoring me.

“Can I go see her?” My throat burns.

He looks at me, really looks at me this time, the blood on my chest, dried into my hands.

“Not like this.” He replies, calm yet unyielding. “She’s just come out of a major surgery.” He continues. “She’ll be disoriented and in pain. The last thing she needs is to wake up to…this.” His gaze flicks down to the blood again before returning to my face.

I nod and rush out, needing to wash the blood off, needing to see her.

For the first time in six hours, I draw a steady breath.

I’m going to make this right.

I promise.

Machines hum softly in the background, their steady rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos still ringing in my head.

She looks…smaller.

Elara lies against the stark white sheets, her skin pale, almost translucent under the dim hospital lights. An IV line runs into her arm.

The monitor beside her blinks in slow, rhythmic patterns, each beep a reminder that she’s still here.

Alive.

I stop at the edge of the bed, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides before I curl them into fists. I don’t know where to touch her, how to touch her without hurting her.

Her eyes remain closed, her sleep drug-induced, and all I can do is wait.

My hand shoots forward, my trembling has stopped but the fear I once felt is very much vivid and gaudy. I gently caress her cheek with the back of my hand.

Her warmth anchors me, steadying me through even the most dangerous storms. My fingers find her pulse at her neck, and I close my eyes, letting its stable rhythm ground me.

I lean forward and place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Elara…” My voice comes out rough, barely more than a

breath.

“I’m here.” I manage, the words scraping out of my throat. “I’m right here and I’m never leaving your side.”

For a moment, I just stand there, watching her chest rise and fall, counting each breath and it’s the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I should have been there. My jaw tightens, my gaze dropping to the bandages around her wrists.

“I…” I try to breathe. “I-I love you.”

A huge lump in my throat prevents me from speaking, a ball of guilt poking my chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner when it’s the only thing I’ve felt ever since I saw you on that bridge.” My chest heaves and I vomit my feelings out.