Chapter 127 The Space Between Heartbeats

• The morning light seeped gently through the blinds, spilling over the white hospital walls in muted gold. The storm had passed, but its memory lingered in the scent of wet pavement and the rhythmic drip of rain from the windowsill. The air inside was still, save for the faint hum of machines and the steady, fragile rhythm of Zara’s heartbeat.
• Leo sat in the same chair he had spent the night in, his body slouched but his mind alert. His shirt was wrinkled and half-dried, his hair still damp from the rain. He hadn’t slept last night, he couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her falling again pale, drenched, her voice barely a whisper as she said those words that shattered and saved him all at once.
• “I remember.”