The soft morning light filtered through the hospital curtains in pale golden streaks, warming Reyan's cheek as he stirred beneath the sheets. There was a fuzzy silence in his ears, as if the whole world had been muffled in cotton.
For a moment, he forgot where he was.
Then the sterile scent of antiseptic crept into his nose, and the dull ache in his chest reminded him.
The hospital.
Liora.
The collapse.
He groaned softly, rubbing his eyes. A blurry shape moved near the window, and then—
"Oh, good. You're awake."Liora voice was soft, but laced with relief. She walked over, balancing a tray.
Reyan blinked at her.
She was wearing a cozy gray hoodie—too large for her—and had pulled her hair into a loose bun that left a few wispy strands falling into her eyes. Her expression was tired, but bright. That impossible contradiction he had grown too fond of.
He stared too long.
She raised an eyebrow. "What? You're looking at me like I'm a ghost."
"You are a ghost," he rasped. "A really stubborn one."
She grinned. "And you're a drama king. Now shut up and eat."
He sat up slowly, groaning. "I feel like I got hit by a train."
"You kind of hit yourself," she replied, handing him a spoon. "You scared the hell out of me yesterday."
Reyan paused, his hand tightening around the spoon.
"I know. I'm sorry."
She didn't look away. "You don't have to keep apologizing. But I want to understand. If it's okay… can you tell me what went through your head before you passed out?"
He hesitated.
Then, with a breath, he set the spoon down.
"It was like… like all the pieces I've been locking away cracked open at once. Your words that night—when you said you sometimes wish you could vanish—I saw myself in you. Too much. It scared me."
He ran a hand through his hair, voice low. "And then the memories—things I don't fully remember—hit me like a flood. There were sounds. Screams. Blood, maybe. But it's all so fragmented. And I thought... if I just let go, it would stop."
Liora's throat tightened. "But you didn't."
His eyes lifted to hers. "Because you were there."
Silence fell between them. It was not heavy—more like the hush before a confession.
Then Liora spoke, her voice fragile.
"When I said those things that night, I wasn't trying to scare you. I just… sometimes I feel so full of emotion that I can't breathe. And I pretend to be fine because it's easier than explaining the chaos inside."
She looked down. "But seeing you collapse made me realize—I'm not the only one pretending."
Reyan nodded, quietly.
"I've always been pretending. Even with myself."
Liora finally smiled. "Well, you suck at it."
He laughed. Genuinely. The sound of it bounced off the walls like sunlight in a cave.
And she couldn't help it—her heart fluttered.
She blinked. Wait. Did I just think that?
"Stop smiling like that," she muttered.
"Like what?"
"Like a smug idiot."
"I just didn't know nurses brought breakfast with cute smiles and emotional wisdom," he teased, sipping water.
Her cheeks flushed instantly. "Don't call me cute."
"I didn't. I said your smile was cute."
"Reyan!"
He winced playfully. "Ow. Don't shout. I'm fragile, remember?"
She groaned into her hands. "You're impossible."
But her heart was doing backflips. The tension between them had shifted—it wasn't heavy or hesitant now. It was electric. It danced in glances, in jokes, in how close her hand came to his when she handed him the tray.
He noticed it too.
"Liora," he said, voice suddenly softer. "That night in the mountains… I left my violin behind."
She nodded. "I know. I went back and picked it up."
"You did?"
She reached into her bag and carefully lifted the black case, setting it on his lap.
His fingers hovered over it. "Thank you."
He opened the case slowly. The strings were intact. The bow tucked neatly inside.
"It's my father's," he said, surprising her. "He used to play for my mother every morning. Before the accident… he taught me one piece."
He paused.
"It's the only thing I have left that still connects me to them."
Her voice was gentle. "Will you play it for me sometime?"
He looked up. Their eyes met.
"Only if you promise not to fall for me afterward," he said, tone light but eyes deep.
She blinked. "W-What?"
"I'm just warning you. Girls tend to swoon."
"Oh my god," she groaned, face heating.
He laughed again.
But underneath the laughter was something more honest. A moment of shared vulnerability they were learning to lean into.
She took a deep breath.
"Reyan… do you still want to find the truth? About what really happened to your family?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I need to. Even if it hurts."
"Then… when you're better, come to my hometown."
He blinked. "Why?"
"I have a feeling," she said, "that the answers you're looking for might be there."
His brows furrowed. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know," she admitted.
"I don't know. But it's worth finding out."
He closed his eyes. "Then I'll go. With you."
She smiled.
For a while, they sat in comfortable silence. Until—
"I'm scared," Reyan whispered.
She looked at him. "Of what?"
"That if I dig too deep… I won't like what I find. That maybe I won't come out of it the same person."
Liora leaned forward, touched his hand.
"That's okay," she said. "Even if you come out different, I'll still be here. Even if it breaks you… we'll rebuild. Together."
The way she said we made his heart skip a beat.
He looked down at their joined hands.
And slowly… quietly… intertwined his fingers with hers.
No dramatic music played. No sudden declarations.
Just warmth.
Honest, fragile warmth.
And for Reyan Caelum Virelith, it was the first time in years that the future didn't look like a void.