Semua Bab Claimed by havoc : Bab 91 - Bab 96

TristanFor one second, nothing happens. The guard’s words hang in the air. “She’s not waking up.”My mind rejects it immediately. Nope. She only wants attention. There is nothing wrong with her. She’s perfectly fine. She has to be. It’s just another game. Another manipulation scheme that I won't succumb to. She wants me to walk through that door and race to her. Texas is already moving before I am. “What do you mean she’s not waking up?”The guard swallows hard, “We knocked several times, she didn't answer. We unlocked the door….” his voice falters, “She was on the floor.”Something cold settles beneath my ribs. I stand so abruptly the chair crashes backward onto the marble floor. The sound echoes through the office.Nobody speaks. Nobody moves. I don't even remember crossing the room. One second, I'm beside the desk, the next, the office door slams against the wall as I stride into the corridor.Texas trails behind me without saying a word. Although I can guess she’s practically

Roxana Warmth. That is the first thing I feel, not happiness. Not relief. Just, Warmth. My eyes are still closed. But I can feel something soft pressing against my skin. A blanket. My body aches beneath it. Every muscle feels heavy, as though someone replaced my bones with stone. I try to move. A dull pain spreads through my arms immediately. My eyelids flutter. Light. Too bright. I squeeze my eyes shut again before slowly forcing them open. The ceiling is White. Familiar. My heartbeat stumbles. No. I know this ceiling. I know this room. My gaze slowly wanders across the bedroom. The large windows. The marble fireplace. The bookshelves. The oversized bed. Our bedroom. No. His bedroom. My throat tightens. Why am I here? The last thing I remember is… Cold. The tiny room. The freezing floor. The bars over the window. Then, nothing. A quiet clink makes my eyes shift toward the other side of the room. Tristan. He’s standing near the window with his back turned to me. One han

Roxana Midnight comes quietly. Too quietly. I know because I’ve been staring at the clock for what feels like hours. 12:03. The room is dark except for the faint silver light spilling through the curtains. I haven’t slept. I don’t think I can. Every time I close my eyes, I see Tristan standing by the window this morning. Cold. Distant. Almost unreachable. “I don't remember how.” His words have been haunting me all day. “I don’t remember how to look at you the way I used to.” I don’t remember how to love you. Maybe that’s what he meant. Maybe there really is no way back. I turn onto my side and pull the blanket higher. This bed is too large. That’s what I’ve noticed since waking up here. It used to feel luxurious. Now it feels enormous. There is too much space around me. Too much silence. Too many memories. My fingers brush against the pillow beside me—his pillow. I immediately pull my hand away. Ridiculous. Even after everything, some stupid part of me still remembers w