To Renna Rose Lancaster, Aadam Callahan was her first taste of magic-the boy who made her world feel livelier, brighter, like anything was possible. Together they crafted a bond that felt unbreakable-a universe where dreams were shared under starlit...
"He walked into my heart like he always belonged there,took down my walls and lit my soul on fire"
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The first thing I felt was the weight in my chest, heavy and unyielding, as if it had settled there overnight, planting itself so deep it might never leave.
My eyelids fluttered open, and for a long, disoriented second, I just stared at the blurred ceiling.
The morning light seeped through the heavy crimson curtains, gentle and soft, but it felt too bright, too intrusive for the ache that had wrapped itself around my heart.
I blinked again, slower this time, trying to push through the fog of sleep.
My head felt like it was swimming, the edges of my thoughts frayed and tired. I shifted slightly, my body sinking further into the warmth of the bed, though my limbs felt impossibly heavy, as if they weren't mine at all.
My throat was dry. I swallowed, wincing at the roughness, the soreness that made me feel like I had been crying for hours. And maybe I had.
I couldn't quite remember when I fell asleep-only the memory of yesterday kept clawing at me, biting at the back of my mind.
I could feel the burn behind my eyes starting again, but I quickly closed them, willing the tears away.
Don't cry again, Renna. Don't.
A soft rustling beside me broke the silence, and I heard the familiar sound of my mama's voice before I even saw her.
"Sweetie..." Her hand touched my forehead, the coolness of her skin like a balm against the heat of mine. "Are you awake?"
I blinked again, slowly, the fog lifting just a little as I turned my head towards her. I tried to speak, but my voice came out rough, barely audible. "Mama?"
Her thumb brushed across my forehead, pushing back the stray strands of hair that clung to my damp skin.
"Oh, sweetheart..." she whispered, her voice thick with worry. "You're burning up."
"How are you feeling, baby?" she asked again, her voice quiet, careful, as if she was afraid to break something fragile.
Her fingers kept running gently through my hair, and for a moment, I just let myself sink into the comfort of it.
I didn't want to answer. I didn't want to tell her how much my heart hurt, how every breath felt like it was pressing against something raw and wounded inside me. But I had to say something. She was waiting.
