I stared at him, my mind spinning. I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t believe it. I had nearly drowned. I had been close to losing everything—and for what? For something that didn’t even matter to him.
His footsteps echoed as he walked out of the room, leaving me in the suffocating silence.
I was alone again.
And I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears spilled down my cheeks, my body shaking with the weight of it all.
The fever had taken its toll. I was burning up, my skin flushed and clammy, but Troy insisted on taking care of me, hovering over me as if it would make up for everything he’d done.
He brought me water, checked my temperature every hour, and even tucked me in when I drifted off to sleep. It felt strange, this tender care, but I couldn’t bring myself to trust it. I knew better. I knew the truth, even if he didn’t think I did.
By the third day, the fever had broken. I was exhausted, but I could stand without swaying. The ache in my chest from everything that had happened didn’t fade, but at least the physical pain was gone.