ARIA'S POV.
I was reading when it happened.
Ella called, breathless, words tripping over each other.
"Aria—acci—dent," she said fearfully. "Didn't you see the notification?"
I frowned, confused. "Ella, slow down—"
Then she said his name.
"Ethan."
The world tilted.
"He was involved in an accident," she finally managed. She kept talking, trying to explain what happened, where it happened—but I had already zoned out after the name.
I almost cried.
Almost.
I didn't remember grabbing my jacket. I didn't remember locking my door. I only knew that suddenly I was at the hospital, standing under harsh white lights, my heart pounding like it was trying to escape my chest.
I couldn't lose him.
Not today.
Not with everything unfinished between us. The words never spoken. The questions unanswered. The hurt still sitting between us like unfinished business.
When I finally saw him, my breath caught.
Ethan lay there, pale and worn-out, machines humming softly around him. He looked smaller somehow. Younger. Like the boy I used to walk home with after school, not the man who broke my trust years later.
Without thinking, I reached out and touched his face.
It was the first time since our fight.
His skin was warm. Real.
And suddenly guilt crashed into me.
Did I cause this?
Was I responsible?
My mind spiraled, pulling up memories I tried so hard to bury.
High school.
Me sitting beside him, heart in my throat, finally confessing that I liked him. Trusting him because he was my best friend. Because he had always felt safe.
And then—years later—me standing frozen, overhearing his voice .Hearing him laugh with his friends.
"There's this girl," he'd said casually. "She says she likes me. But does she even know what liking someone means?"
Their laughter had followed me for years.
Not because he didn't like me back—but because he told them. Because he turned something fragile into a joke. Because he never warned me. Never protected me.
My chest tightened.
He stirred slightly, his brows knitting together before his eyes fluttered open.
"Aria?" he whispered, like he wasn't sure I was real.
"I'm here," I said quietly, my voice betraying me.
He looked relieved. And that hurt more than I expected.
"I didn't think you'd come," he said.
"I didn't come because everything is okay," I replied. "I came because… you matter. Even when you hurt me."
He swallowed, his gaze drifting away. "I was stupid back then."
"Yes," I said softly. "You were."
Tears burned my eyes, but I didn't let them fall.
"I trusted you," I continued. "And you laughed about it. You let me hear it years later like I was nothing."
"I hate myself for that," he said, voice cracking. "Every day."
Silence filled the room. Heavy. Honest.
"I'm not here to forgive you," I said finally. "I'm here because part of me still hopes you become someone who would never do that again."
He looked at me then—really looked.
"That hope," he said quietly, "is the only thing keeping me going."
I stepped back, my hand slipping from his.
"Get better, Ethan," I said. "That's all I can give right now."
As I walked out of the room, my chest ached—not with love, not with anger—but with something fragile and terrifying.
Hope.
And I wasn't sure yet whether it would heal us…
or break us all over again.