Elena's POV
I woke to a dim light filtering through heavy curtains. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of rain outside.
My head throbbed. The taste of gin lingered in my mouth.
For a moment, I didn't know where I was.
Then it all came rushing back—the storm, the fight, Damian's insistence.
I turned slowly and saw him sitting nearby, watching me with guarded concern.
"Elena," he said softly, "you passed out. I didn't want you to be alone."
I swallowed hard, unsure whether to be angry or grateful.
"Why are you doing this?" I whispered, voice raw.
He hesitated. "Because... despite everything, I still care. I don't want to lose you like this."
Tears welled up again. I looked away, the weight of years and pain pressing down on me.
"I don't know if I can trust you," I admitted.
He nodded slowly, accepting the truth.
"I'll prove it. One step at a time."
For the first time in a long while, I let myself believe—just a little—that maybe I wasn't completely alone.
