third person pov
The hospital ceiling had thirty-two small dots in one square tile. Cameron counted them....again.
She'd been lying still for hours, the beeping of her IV the only rhythm keeping time. Her arm throbbed, her head ached faintly, but nothing compared to the slow burn in her chest. The kind that had nothing to do with physical pain.
And everything to do with the boy who left his fire in her veins.
Alan hadn't returned.
And Avan hadn't shown up at all.
Not once.
***
The door creaked open.
For a moment, her heart jolted. She sat up too quickly, pain lancing down her back.
But it wasn't either of them.
It was the nurse again older, kind eyes, clipboard in hand.
She gave Cameron a gentle smile. "Feeling stronger today, darling?"
"I guess," Cameron muttered.
The nurse approached the drip stand and adjusted it taking note of her vitals
then she placed some drugs on the side table and adjusted the water glass. Then paused.
"Oh," she said softly, picking up something folded neatly and left behind.
A sheet of sketch paper.
"Someone must've dropped this when you were sleeping."
She placed it carefully into Cameron's lap. "Looks like a gift. Should I leave you to it?"
Cameron nodded slowly, she recognized the paper her fingers already itching to unfold it.
When the door closed, she opened the paper.
Her breath caught.
It was her...again.
Only this time, the image was softer. She was lying on a hospital bed, her lips parted in sleep, her curls spread across the pillow like spilled ink. One hand was curled over her stomach, the other loosely at her side.
But the most striking thing?
A single tear drawn slipping from her closed eye.
And written beneath in bold, slanted handwriting:
I saw the pain before you spoke it
Her throat closed, she swallowed.
Alan.
It was Alan.
she knew it was him
Cameron's Voice – First Person:
"I hated him,For seeing me.
For making me feel seen.
And for reminding me that somewhere between his games…
He was honest when I needed lies."
***
The door opened again. This time, she didn't react.
Until she heard the voice.
"I'm sorry."
Cameron's eyes snapped up.
Avan.
He stood in the doorway, disheveled, hair damp like he'd walked through mist. His uniform was wrinkled. His eyes were rimmed in guilt.
She stared at him for a long moment.
"You didn't come."
"I couldn't," he said softly.
"Why?" she whispered.
He stepped closer. "Because I couldn't bear seeing you hurt. And knowing… I wasn't the one who stayed."
Cameron's fingers tightened around the sketch paper in her lap.
"You think staying would've made a difference?" she asked.
"I don't know," Avan admitted.
He took a step closer, then another, until he was at her bedside. He looked down at the sketch.
He recognized the style instantly.
"Alan."
She nodded.
Avan let out a bitter exhale. "He always knew how to leave a mark."
"how did you know I was here" Cameron asked
"Alan"
"how did this happen"
"it was an accident"
Avan's eyes closed for a second. "Do you like him?"
She looked down.And said nothing
Because silence was the only truth left between them.
Avan sat in the chair Alan had once occupied.
Neither of them spoke for a long time.
And Cameron realized then…
Sometimes two people can share silence.
But only one of them will make it feel safe.
***
Later that evening, Avan left quietly. No promises. No anger. Just the slow fade of something that once could've been everything.
Cameron lay back in bed, the sketch still beside her.
And on the back of the paper, she noticed a small line drawn in pencil:
I'll never be the safe choice, Cam. But I'll always be the honest one."
She pressed her fingers to the signature.
And closed her eyes.
***
Cameron's Voice – First Person:
"I should've hated him.
Should've torn the drawing.
hould've buried the feeling.
But instead… I folded it carefully.
And slept with it under my pillow."