154

Yalda lingered just outside the hospital room, her fingers loosely clasped together in front of her as the doctors and nurses swarmed around Alexander’s bed. The hallway light flickered softly above her, casting faint shadows on the pale green walls.

Inside, the rhythmic beeping of machines echoed with a steady persistence, their familiar tone oddly comforting, yet each sound seemed to amplify her tension. The moment his eyes had fluttered open, the wave of relief that had crashed over her had been massive, dizzying, and overwhelming. But so had the panic that followed in its wake.

She hadn’t expected to feel so much. To be so cracked open. But she had. And now, standing there like a ghost in her own life, unable to watch the medical team tend to him as if he were some fragile artifact, she stepped away.

In the hallway, Carl sat patiently, his posture still but alert. His expression was unreadable, his suit slightly rumpled from the hours spent waiting. Beside him, curled tightly into a compact bundle of fur and loyalty, was Loki. The little dog blinked slowly up at her with bright eyes, his tail flicking once as if to acknowledge her arrival.

“Carl,” she said softly, her voice frayed around the edges, “can you... look after Loki for a bit? I need to go clean up.”

He looked up at her gently, concern etched into every line of his face. “Of course, Miss Yalda. Take your time. Don’t worry about him. We’ll be just fine.”

She crouched to give Loki a small scratch behind the ears, whispering, “Be good, okay? I’ll be back soon,” before straightening and hurrying down the corridor. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, and the smell of antiseptic clung to her nostrils as she exited the building, stepping into the crisp New York dusk.

The city greeted her with its usual bustle, but it all felt so far away. Distant. Muffled. The muted hum of traffic, the faint honk of impatient drivers, the scent of roasted nuts from a cart vendor on the corner, it all felt like a life she wasn’t living anymore.

She walked with purpose, but her limbs felt wooden, her steps slightly unsteady.

The hotel she had checked into was only a few blocks from the hospital. She had chosen it for its proximity, not its elegance. It was modest, with beige walls and soft lighting, and smelled faintly of fresh linen and lemon polish. The moment she entered the room and closed the door behind her, her body seemed to collapse inward. She sagged against the door, the silence in the room pressing against her ears, louder than the city outside.

Her hands moved on autopilot as she began to undress, pulling off the blouse she’d worn for more than a day. It still carried the lingering scent of salt and sea breeze of Greece....of Ioannis. The smell hit her like a memory, sharp and immediate. Her breath caught. She held the fabric in her hands for a moment, fingers tightening around it.

Then, she flung it onto the chair in the corner like it had burned her. She needed to be strong now, she had made her choice after all.

Barefoot, she made her way into the bathroom. Cold marble met her soles, and the lighting above the mirror buzzed softly. The mirror was already fogged slightly from the humidity that clung to the small room. She turned on the water and stepped under the stream without waiting for it to warm fully.

Eventually, the water did turn hot, almost scalding but she welcomed it. Braced her hands against the cool tiles and let the steam rise around her like a shield. But it wasn’t enough. Her tears broke free anyway. Silent and relentless, they slid down her cheeks, mixing with the water so that no one, least of all herself, could tell where the shower ended and her sadness began.

The image of Alexander lying there, unmoving and pale, burned behind her eyelids. He had always been the strong one. The pillar. The constant in her chaotic world. When she had nothing, no one, he had been the one to carry her. And now, seeing him like that; reduced to a whisper of who he once was, something inside her had splintered.

Her sobs deepened. Shaky, guttural things that came from the pit of her chest.

Why did she still care this much?

She had tried to move on. Had built something real with Ioannis, something safe, something warm. But all it had taken was one call, one moment of Alexander unconscious and helpless, to unearth everything she had buried.

And then came the brutal truth; she had left Ioannis.

That reality slammed into her like a second wave, more ruthless than the first. She could still hear his voice, cool and calm when he said he wouldn't wait for her if she left.

Had she made the wrong choice?

The thought burrowed under her skin like a splinter. She stepped out of the shower on shaking legs and wrapped herself in a towel, avoiding the mirror for as long as possible. But when she finally looked up, her reflection stared back; red-rimmed eyes, lips bitten and swollen, face blotchy with emotion. She looked like a woman on the edge.

And yet, she didn’t have the luxury of falling apart.

Slowly, deliberately, she dressed, choosing a soft cream silk blouse, its fabric smooth and gentle against her skin. She paired it with dark jeans that offered familiarity and form, grounding her in a small way. She pulled her hair back into a low, neat bun and applied concealer with steady fingers, though her hands trembled slightly.

The mask was nearly flawless, a polished exterior. But underneath, her heart was racing. Thudding. Cracking.

The city felt colder when she stepped outside again. The sky had darkened, city lights flickering on in gradual succession. She walked quickly, head down, gripping the straps of her bag as though they tethered her to the earth.

Back at the hospital, Carl stood when he saw her approach. His expression didn’t change much, but there was something softer in his eyes.

“He’s fully awake,” he said simply. “He’s asked if you had really been here or if it had been in his head."

Yalda froze mid-step.

“What did you tell him?” she asked quietly, her voice tight.

Carl regarded her with quiet understanding. “Only that you were, and you stepped out. He didn’t ask for more than that.”

Her stomach twisted. The idea of facing Alexander now that he was conscious, now that he could speak, could look at her with those gray eyes and read her like a book, made her pulse spike.

She had played out this moment in her head a thousand times. In some versions, he welcomed her back with warmth. In others, his gaze turned cold, distant. She didn’t know which possibility scared her more.

Leaning against the corridor wall, she closed her eyes, trying to gather herself. Her legs felt like lead. Her chest ached with the weight of too many emotions. Alexander’s condition, her betrayal of Ioannis, the love that hadn’t died despite everything, it all crowded her mind until she could barely think.

She thought she had closed this chapter of her life. Had sealed it shut with careful stitches. But now, the seams were unraveling all over again.

Her hand lifted to the door to room 311. She hovered.
Fingers just inches from the handle, but unable to close the distance.