Page 53

A Year Later

The house was quieter than it used to be. A full year had passed since the war, but the shadow of that time still lingered in every corner, every creak of the floorboards.

The days blurred together, filled with routines that were comforting yet hollow. I hadn't exactly moved on, not in the way I should've.

I wandered through the halls, my mind miles away. Every now and then, I would pause by the window, looking out into the distance, as though hoping the view would offer me something I could cling to.

But all it ever gave me was more silence, more empty air.

I was alone.

Truly and utterly alone.

Sighing, I tried to remember the happy moments. But then......

As I was caught up in one of these little melancholic moments, staring out the window, I heard the faintest sound behind me.

A familiar, too-familiar sound that made my heart race and my breath catch. I already knew who it was.

~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~

The room had smelled like antiseptic and fresh linens, the sharp scent of medicine lingering in the air. The beeping of the monitors was the only sound in the too-still space, a quiet yet constant reminder that Alec was still here, still breathing.

I sat beside his bed, my fingers curled around his hand. His skin had been cold that first night, his body weak from the battle he had barely survived.

I had never been more terrified.

“Come on, Alec,” I had whispered, my voice barely audible in the sterile silence. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to leave me behind.”

He didn’t stir. Didn’t even twitch. But I had kept talking anyway, as if my words alone could anchor him back to me.

Jack had popped his head in more times than I could count, sometimes with food, sometimes just to check that I hadn’t lost my mind.

“You know,” he had said one evening, leaning against the doorframe, “if you keep staring at him like that, he might wake up out of sheer discomfort.”

I had shot him a glare, but the truth was, I had been staring. Watching the slow rise and fall of Alec’s chest, counting each breath like they were the only thing holding me together.

Days passed. Then weeks.

And then, one night, I had been dozing off, my head resting on my folded arms beside him, when I felt it—his fingers twitching against mine.

My head had snapped up so fast it hurt, my heart slamming against my ribs.

“Alec?”

A quiet groan. A flicker of movement. Then, finally, after weeks of silence, his eyes had opened.

The relief had been so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that I hadn’t even realized I was crying until Alec’s hoarse voice broke through the haze.

“Cassie?”

I had laughed then—an odd, choked sound, somewhere between hysteria and disbelief. “Yeah, it’s me, you idiot.”

He had blinked slowly, taking me in as if trying to confirm I was real. Then, despite everything—despite the pain, despite the exhaustion—his lips had curled into the faintest smirk.

“You look terrible.”

I had laughed again, punching his arm lightly. “You almost died, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

Alec had hummed, his smirk growing just a little. “Almost.”

I had hesitated then, pressing a trembling hand to his cheek, just to be sure he was real, that he was warm, that he was back. The weight of weeks of worry crashed down on me all at once, and I had barely managed to choke out, "You scared me."

His eyes softened, his fingers weakly curling around mine. "Sorry, Cass. Didn't mean to."