Rosalia — POV
I woke with a dull ache spreading through my skull, thirst clawing at my throat and dizziness pressing behind my eyes. I opened them slowly, clinging to a single, desperate thought.
Water.
"...Water," I whispered. My voice scraped out of , dry and broken, barely human.
A glass appeared in front of my face. Warm water. I did not question it. I did not hesitate. I seized it and drank greedily, swallowing as if I had been deprived for years, as if my body feared it might never be given rcy again.
Only when the glass was empty—only when my shaking hands could no longer find another drop—did I finally lift my gaze.
And froze.
The face before was not the one my heart had already reached for.
"...Why," I murmured, disbelief cracking my voice, "is it you?"
Henry.
He was holding my head carefully, one arm braced behind my neck as though afraid I might collapse again.
His expression was tight, his jaw clenched, his green eyes stormy with emotions I neither wanted nor had the strength to acknowledge.
For a heartbeat, my mind was blank.
Then everything ca rushing back.
Matthew. Healing him.
The sudden, searing pain in my neck—
Cassel.
His teeth. His bite.
Darkness is swallowing my vision.
Shadows closing in.
Then nothing.
Panic seized like a living thing.
I jerked upright and whipped my head around, my breath hitching as my eyes frantically searched my surroundings.
A car.
We were inside a moving car. Daylight filtered through the windows, muted beneath a sky choked with heavy, oppressive clouds.
My heart slamd violently against my ribs.
"Where is Cassel?"
The question tore out of before I could stop it.
Robin was there. Frederick. Joe is at the wheel. Liz is sitting close enough to touch.
Everyone was here.
Everyone except him.
The realization struck like a blade to my chest.
"After sleeping for hours because of him," Henry snapped bitterly, "the first thing you ask is where he is?"
"If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t—"
His anger burned openly now, but I did not care. I could not afford to care.
"Stop looking at like that," I said sharply, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm. "Just tell . Where is Cassel?"
Fear coiled tighter with every second that passed without an answer.
Since the mont we t, we had never been apart.
Never.
Not after battles. Not after bloodshed. Not after betrayal or loss.
And after everything that had happened—after I had been hurt, after I had lost consciousness—his absence was unbearable.
He loved .
He would not leave like this.
He wouldn’t.
"Henry," I shouted, my control shattering completely, "don’t just stare at ! Talk! Where is Cassel?!"
My body was shaking now, violently, as if it already sensed the truth before my mind could accept it.
Henry exhaled heavily, then pointed behind us.
"The boss is in the car behind this one," he said flatly. "There’s no reason to panic."
"...What?"
The word barely left my lips.
Another car?
Had he chosen another car?
He had left unconscious—injured—and gotten into a different vehicle?
Why?
Why would he do that?
Why would he leave alone?
Cassel... what were you thinking?
Then, without warning, a single thought slipped into my mind.
And everything inside collapsed.
What if he no longer loved ?
What if he was tired of ?
What if my villain—my Cassel—no longer wanted ?
The world tilted.
My hands went cold.
If that were true... what would I do?
He doesn’t need .
No one needs .
Just like that family who abandoned in the dark—he would abandon too.
Tears spilled freely as the thought consud , suffocating and rciless.
Suddenly, struggling felt aningless.
Living felt aningless.
If the person I existed for no longer wanted —then what was the point of this world?
Darkness crept in again.
Cold. Hollow. Endless.
A pain far worse than death itself wrapped around my heart.
I could accept anything.
Anything—
Except for his rejection.
My light.
My reason for surviving this long.
My one and only villain.
If even he turned away from , what would remain to .
Nothing.
My life had no aning without him.
I couldn’t breathe without him.
Without him—
I would die.
I truly would.
My vision blurred completely. I clutched my chest as if trying to hold my heart in place, as if it were being torn out by invisible hands.
Air refused to enter my lungs.
My breaths ca in broken gasps, shallow and frantic.
I heard voices—Henry, Liz—felt hands gripping my arms, my shoulders.
"Rosalia, breathe! Rosalia!"
"Joe, stop the car! Open the window!" Liz cried, fumbling with my collar, her fingers brushing against the dried blood staining my clothes.
Their concern reached .
But it ant nothing.
If the one person I lived for no longer wanted , then the care of the entire world was worthless.
If the reason my heart beat chose to abandon —
How was my heart supposed to keep beating?
For what purpose?
By whose will?
I couldn’t.
"Cass... el..."
His na slipped from my lips again and again, broken and desperate.
A prayer.
A plea.
A call to my god.
He was my oxygen.
The force that kept my heart alive.
Without him—
I sobbed loudly, my chest burning as my suffocation worsened, until my eyes stung red and my limbs grew numb.
If this continued, I would truly die.
And then—
Soone pulled into their arms.
Warmth.
Strong arms wrapped around , shaking as they held tightly, as if afraid I might disappear.
A familiar scent.
A familiar heartbeat.
A familiar presence.
The mont my face pressed against his chest, my lungs finally obeyed.
I drew in a long, trembling breath.
Then another.
My frantic heartbeat slowed, settling as if soothed by his re existence.
The fear vanished.
So did the emptiness.
Cassel.
He was here.
After I cald, after my tears slowed, I opened my eyes and looked up at him through blurred vision.
His face was pale.
Before he could speak, I pulled back—and struck him.
Smack.
The sound echoed sharply through the car. Soone gasped. Soone cursed.
I didn’t care.
I hit him again.
And again.
Until my palm burned red.
Until his cheek bruised beneath my hand.
Until my strength was completely gone.
"Why?" I cried, my voice shattering as I pounded weakly against his chest. "Why did you leave ?"
Tears stread down my face as I leaned into him, furious and broken.
"I thought—you—I thought you didn’t want anymore!"
My sobs turned loud, uncontrollable, pouring out every ounce of pain and injustice I felt.
He had left while I was hurt.
He should have held .
He should have been there.
He should have been the first thing I saw when I woke up.
"Why... why...?"
I asked until my voice failed .
Then I collapsed against him, utterly exhausted.
When his hand began to stroke my back, my hair—slow, careful, comforting—I shut my eyes.
Above , his voice finally broke the silence.
Low.
Shaken.
Filled with fear, love... and surrender.
"I hurt you," he said.
"Because I hurt you."
"...And I’m afraid," he admitted softly, "that I might... do it again."
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