The throbbing in my head wouldn't stop. It pulsed deep behind my eyes, relentless, like a nail being hammered straight into my skull. The more I tried to think, tried to remember, the sharper it became until the pain was the only thing I could hold onto.
Then other sensations bled through.
The scent of wet wood. Smoke. Snow carried in on cold air. Soft murmurs drifting somewhere nearby, woven together with the low crackle of a fire. The sound anchored me, tugging me slowly out of the dark.
I forced my eyes to open.
The world swam, blurred shapes melting into one another. Light flared and fractured, refusing to settle no matter how many times I blinked. My head felt too heavy for my body, so my eyelids dragging closed again before I could make sense of what I was seeing.
"Should we be worried?" a woman's voice murmured nearby. She sounded middle-aged, cautious. Her words muffled like I was underwater. "It's been a day. Should we call the boss?"
"No," a man answered quietly. Firm and certain. "Everything's fine."
I let the darkness take me again. The echo of that certainty settling somewhere deep inside my chest. Unnerving, familiar and far too close.
He hummed softly against my lips as we kissed. Slow and lingering. His hands slipping around my waist, drawing me closer and closer until I could feel the unmistakable press of his hardening length against my lower belly.
I broke into a shy giggle against his lips, my cheeks warming.
He smiled, the curve of it soft and familiar.
"I'll be back before you know it," he murmured, his voice low, pressing his forehead gently against mine as I sighed, pulling back just enough to smooth my hands over the front of his black suit.
My heart ached at how devastatingly handsome he looked in his brand new suit. It was the first time I've seen him with his sharp jaw, all clean-shaven, his hair neatly-combed back. Every inch the polished executive than the brilliant, slightly chaotic software engineer I had just married.
"I know," I whispered, leaning into him, pressing my ear right into his chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe something restless inside me.
I surface slowly the second time, dragged upward by a rhythmic beeping that pulsed in time with the ache behind my eyes. The air felt different now. It felt too clean, too sharp and familiar. Antiseptic. Beneath it all, lingered the faint scent of soap and something medicinal, replacing the wet wood I remembered.
I'm in a hospital.
Though the realization settled heavily in my chest, I didn't open my eyes right away. My body felt weighted, limbs sluggish as if gravity had doubled while I was gone. Somewhere close by, voices murmured, clearer this time, no longer filtered through fog.
"Did you see the man who brought her in?" a woman whispered, her tone hushed but unmistakably curious. The soft rustle of fabric followed, the sound of someone adjusting a tray or checking a chart.
The other nurse hummed. "Hard to miss him. Tall, dark hair. Looked like trouble wrapped in a very expensive coat. Didn't even stop to sign the forms, just left like that."
Their voices then blurred together, dissolving into indistinct murmurs before fading entirely. Time was slipping strangely. Stretching, folding in on itself until even the pain dulled into a distant throb.
Then I felt it.
The sensation of being watched.
I stirred, lashes fluttering when I forced my eyes to open. The room was dimmer now, lit only be the soft glow of machines and the faint spill of light from the hallway. A dark figure stood beside my bed, unmoving. Silent.
For a fleeting, foolish second, hope surged through me.
My heart stumbled as I took in the broad shoulders. The dark hair. The way he stood out like a shadow guarding the edges of my world.
Alex?
But as my vision sharpened, the illusion shattered.
The eyes watching me weren't the green that haunted my dreams. They were dark. Familiar in a different kind of way. Safer.
Dario.
The disappointment hit harder than the pain in my skull, swift and merciless. I swallowed, my throat tightening as reality settled back into place. Heavy and unyielding.
"You're awake," he said quietly, relief threading through his voice as he leaned closer to my bed. "Right in time."
Right in time?
Before I could ask what he meant, the door opened.
My grandfather stepped inside, his cane striking the floor with slow, deliberate precision. I stayed silent, watching him approach, my heart sinking with each measured step he took. The room seemed to shrink around us, the thick with things left unsaid.
All I could think about was how close I had come to seeing someone else.
And how much it hurt that he wasn't here.
I shoved the thought away, just when I saw my grandfather approaching. Instinct kicking in before sense could catch up as I tried to shove myself upright, bracing my hands against the mattress despite the sharp protest that flared through my skull and down my spine.
Pain bloomed behind my eyes, bright and disorienting. But pride, or perhaps something closer to fear, pushed me forward anyway.
I refused to let my grandfather see me like this. Weak and broken. Laid out like some cautionary tale.
My shoulders barely rose from the pillow before a firm hand pressed me back down.
"It's okay," Dario murmured, his voice low but steady, grounding in a way I hadn't expected. His grip wasn't rough, but it was unyielding, his fingers curling around my arm as he leaned closer. "You don't have to get up. Especially not after what you've been through."
What I've been through?
I shook my head, breath coming out shallow as another wave of pain crashed over me. "I'm fine," I lied, though the words came out brittle as glass.
I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. I've failed him. I could feel it settling in my chest, heavy and inevitable. Whatever words he was about to deliver would be final, I was certain of that. Still, I straightened my spine as much as the pain allowed, refusing to show how deeply this hurt. How much everything did.
My grandfather stood at the foot of my bed, and Dario, ever the dutiful future grandson-in-law, pulled a chair out for him before he could even ask. The gesture was practiced, respectful.
And yet, even seated, my grandfather's presence dominated the room, commanding without ever needing to raise his voice.
Dario didn't let go, keeping his hands there, right on my shoulder.
Despite every instinct screaming at me to sit up straighter, to brace myself for judgment or disappointment, I stayed where I was. For the first time since I had woken up, no one was demanding me to be strong. And the relief of that settled somewhere deep in my chest, fragile and unfamiliar.
"Don't overexert yourself, Isolda," my grandfather said calmly. "You've done well."
What?
He regarded me with the same measured expression he had always worn, as if he was discussing a transaction rather than my life. "You've completed what you were sent to do," he continued. "I'm proud of you."
I pursed my lips.
"Once you've recovered," he said, "we will proceed with the wedding. We'll decide the date later."
My fingers curled into the sheets.
"Dario has been patient," my grandfather added, glancing proudly in his direction. "That patience will now be rewarded. Your engagement will no longer be delayed. There is no reason to wait, now that your mission has been fulfilled."
I swallowed, my throat tightening.
Had I truly killed him?
I nodded before I could stop myself, the motion shallow and automatic, like muscle memory. This was the ending I had always known was waiting for me. The price, finally collected.
And yet, for reasons I couldn't explain, all I could think about was how empty his praise had felt. How final it sounded.