Isabella's point of view
The walls seemed to close in, their cold presence wrapping around me like unseen hands, squeezing the breath from my lungs. My fingers trembled as they hovered over the small bundle resting in the incubator. The soft beeping of the monitors filled the silence, a cruel reminder that life still clung to this fragile existence, though just barely.
"Isabella..." A voice broke through the fog of my thoughts, hesitant, almost unsure.
I turned slowly, my body moving as if submerged in water, heavy and drained. Ryan stood in the doorway, his face shadowed by the dim hospital lighting. His eyes—ones I once trusted, ones that once held promises of forever—were now hollow, weighed down by an agony that mirrored my own.
"How long have you been standing there?" My voice barely rose above a whisper, raw and frayed at the edges.
He took a slow step forward, his movements cautious, as though afraid I would shatter right in front of him. "Long enough."
