Astrid's POV
The first thing I registered was the blinding white of the ceiling, a stark contrast to the swirling darkness that had consumed me.
The air was clean, sterile, and it smelled of medicine and a faint, lingering trace of pine and earth. My body felt like leaden weight, every muscle aching, every bone screaming in protest. A dull, throbbing pain in my lower abdomen was a phantom sensation, a ghost of something that had been and was no longer. The memory of the lemonade, the sudden dizziness, and the cold floor—it all came back in a rush, a horrifying, terrifying blur.
I tried to sit up, but a gentle hand on my shoulder pressed me back down. I turned my head and saw him. Roshan. His face was a mask of exhaustion and grief, his eyes, so dark and intense, were clouded with a dee
