A Month Later.
Tales had healed—physically, at least. The bruises had faded, the wounds had closed. He hadn't been discharged, he was just given pain meds and instructions to rest to avoid stress.
But resting was impossible.
Because Raja never came back.
At first, Tales had understood. He told himself Raja was busy. That he was handling his men, making sure they had shelter, rebuilding what was lost.
But a week turned into two. Then three. Then a full month.
No visits.
No calls.
No messages.
Tales tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, that it didn’t eat away at him every time he glanced at his phone and saw nothing.
But it did. It really did.
He hated how much it affected him.
How much Raja’s absence felt like a wound all on its own.
Tales feels like waking up in the aftermath of a storm that only he remember—where the sky looks calm, but everything inside him is in ruins. It’s like carrying around a wave of silence in your chest, every breath echoing against his jumbl
