“I don’t know,” he whispered again, his grip on my hand loosening. His voice trembled as he continued, “I had a terrible dream, but I can’t seem to remember anything… It just hurts.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears, his pain so raw that it made my chest tighten.

Even though I didn’t fully understand, I leaned in and wrapped my arms around him, holding him gently. “Everything will be alright,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath. “You’re safe now.”

I repeated those words over and over, hoping they would reach him, soothe him. Little by little, his breathing steadied, and before I knew it, he had fallen asleep in my arms.

I didn’t move.

I couldn’t.

Even as my arms went numb, even as my legs started to ache, I stayed still, afraid that shifting even a little would wake him.

Time passed—minutes, maybe even hours.

I wanted to adjust my position, but I didn’t dare.

Then, suddenly—fortunately or unfortunately—a nurse walked in, breaking the moment.

—

A few hours later, Ewan was well enough to be discharged.

That should have been a relief, but the moment we left the hospital, something about him changed.

He was distant. Cold.

The warmth from last night—the way he had clung to me, whispered my name with such pain—was gone, like it had never even existed.

He hadn’t answered my questions, hadn’t reassured me, hadn’t even tried to explain himself.

Was he hiding something?

I tried to convince myself that he just needed time. It’s only our first day together… or second, I guess.

I hadn’t even realized the sun had already risen while I had been with him all night.

“I’ll drop you off at your hou—”

“No, I need to go somewhere else.”

His voice was sharp, cutting me off before I could even finish my sentence.

It caught off guard. “But you just got discharged”, I said, worry lacing my voice.

“That doesn’t concern you.”

His cold tone hit me like a slap.

I froze for a second, the sting settling deep in my chest.

Why was he acting like this?

I wanted to ask. But instead, I forced myself to stay calm.

“I’ll leave you alone then,” I said quietly, trying to keep my voice steady. “Take your time. You have my number, right? Call me when you feel okay.”

I hesitated before stepping forward and giving him a small side hug, hoping—praying—for a response.

But he didn’t move.

He didn’t hug me back.

And just like that, it felt like last night—like all those moments in the library—had been nothing but an illusion.