The voice reaches me through the darkness—soft, insistent, pulling at something deep inside my chest.
It drifts through the haze of sleep like a thread of gold in black water, wrapping around me, drawing me upward from whatever depths I've been lost in.
"Zyren... Zyren... open your eyes... look at me..."
I don't want to open them.
My eyes feel sealed shut, heavy with a weight that feels like more than sleep—like exhaustion pressed into my bones, like grief soaked into my skin.
But the voice keeps calling. Keeps pulling.
And slowly, I feel myself surfacing, breaking through the invisible barrier between unconsciousness and waking.
The sheets beneath me are soft. Warm. Familiar in a way that makes my chest ache before I even understand why.
This voice...
It's Deniz.
Again.
"Zyren... I love you... please look at me..."
My eyes open.
Light floods in—not the harsh, sterile lights of the hospital or the cold glow of the mansion's bedroom, but something softer.
