AIDEN POV:
I'd been staring at the window for hours. Or maybe it was minutes. Time had stopped making sense somewhere between hearing the doctor say the word "rabies" and watching her convulse in our bed like something out of a nightmare.
Now, silence.
The only sounds in the room were the hum of machines and the steady beeping that reminded me she was still alive—just barely.
I sat in the corner, back rigid, arms crossed like I wasn't itching to be closer. Like I didn't want to yank the blanket higher around her shoulders or brush that matted hair out of her face. Like I didn't want to shake her awake and scream at her for making me care.
Because that's the worst part, isn't it?
Caring.
I hated it. Hated that even after everything—after the lies, after the past life memories, after the airport—I still wanted her to wake up. Just so I could hate her to her face instead of to an empty room.
A soft, broken sound snapped me out of it.
My eyes whipped to the bed.
