Alyssa's POV
I saw Elena before Victor did.
She stood just inside the doorway, framed by the soft hospital light, composed and unhurried, as if she had stepped into a room she already owned.
Her posture was perfect, her expression calm, the kind of calm that didn't come from kindness but from certainty. From knowing exactly where she stood in the world—and where everyone else stood in relation to her.
Victor was still sitting beside me, angled close, his knee nearly brushing mine. His voice was low, casual, wrapped in that easy warmth he used when he wasn't in a hurry to be anywhere else.
He was telling me something trivial—office gossip, a story that didn't matter. His mouth curved into a half-smile at the end of it, waiting for my reaction, like my attention was the only thing anchoring him in the room.
I froze.
Guilt came first. Sharp and immediate, slicing straight through my chest.
Then something darker followed right after.
