Henry burst out of the hospital room like he was escaping a burning building, except the flames were inside him. His eyes were wet and blurry, making the corridor warp and twist as he stumbled forward. The fluorescent lights above buzzed sharply—too bright, too loud—like they were mocking the chaos inside him. Each breath scraped through his chest, raw and uneven, and Eliana's words kept slamming into him over and over, cruel and soft all at once:
"I love you… but I'm not in love with you."
It felt like someone had reached into his chest and twisted something vital. He swallowed hard, shoving past nurses who watched with wide eyes. Someone called after him—"Sir? Sir, are you okay?"—but Henry didn't slow down. He couldn't. If he stopped, he'd shatter right there on the hospital floor.
