Damien
He walked away before he could say something unforgivable.
The hallway stretched too long, too quiet — but the storm inside him didn't care. It raged. It twisted. And somewhere beneath it all, it mourned.
Not just the sight of her lying there.
But what he'd lost before he even had the chance.
He slipped into an empty waiting room, shut the door behind him, and sat. Just sat — elbows on his knees, face in his hands. His fingers trembled against his forehead.
She was supposed to smile tonight.
He had it planned. Stupid, maybe. But honest. A quiet dinner on the rooftop of the beach house, lights strung over their heads, a warm breeze in the air. No masks. No questions. Just her and him and the words he'd finally decided to say:
"Let's not pretend anymore. I like you. I've liked you for a long time."
And he knew — knew — that if she looked at him the way she had that morning, barefoot on the balcony, hair messy and eyes bright… she would've said yes.
But then Leon had called.
And she was gone.
And now she was broken, still, unreachable.
Damien leaned back, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. The ache in his chest spread like wildfire.
"I was supposed to be enough," he whispered.
And maybe that was the cruelest part of all — he never had been.
Leon
He didn't move from the hallway.
Even after Damien left — shoulders tense, fire trailing behind him — Leon stayed rooted. He stared at the wall across from him, eyes unfocused, but mind sharp.
Knew in a place deeper than memory — deeper than reason — that the girl lying in that hospital bed was his Ayla. Not just because of a name. But because of her.
The way she looked at the world. The way she challenged it. The way she made him feel like the boy he used to be — before everything burned.
She was his.
His before the lie.
His even in silence.
His, still.
Damien's last words echoed in his head:
"You better be ready to lose her."
Leon chuckled quietly — not cruel, not loud — just a breath of amusement that didn't reach his eyes.
Lose her?
No.
If that girl in the bed was Ayla, then Damien never had her to begin with.
Because Ayla never loved halfway.
And she had never looked at anyone — anyone — the way she once looked at Leon.
He would wait. For the test. For her.
And when she woke up…
If the fire in her eyes remembered his name?
It would be Damien who lost.