Something is wrong.
Her face is still there—but fading at the edges.
Like I’m slipping out of focus.
Like I’m the one disappearing.
My breathing turns shallow. I swallow, forcing air in.
It doesn’t help.
My fingers tighten on the table as panic begins to rise—not sudden, but crawling.
Spreading.
Cold and immediate.
I try to straighten.
I can’t.
Not fully.
“Elise…” I manage one last time, but it’s barely audible now.
And then my voice stops cooperating entirely.
The sound around me fades. Laughter. Music. Glasses clinking. Elise’s voice.
Everything pulling away like it’s being taken from me one layer at a time.
My grip slips slightly on the table.
Suddenly, before I fall, arms close around me.
Instinctively, I try to push them away. Weakly.
Don’t touch me.
The thought is there. But it doesn’t reach my body fast enough to matter. The grip tightens instead—firm, controlled, familiar.
“Milaya.”
It’s Timofey’s voice. Close. Sharp with something I can’t fully process.
“Are you okay?”
My head lolls slightly before I can stop it. And the resistance in me…breaks.
Not because I want it to.
Because I don’t have the strength to hold it up anymore.
I lean into him.
The world tilts again—but this time I’m not falling alone.
Arms shift under me as I’m lifted off my feet. I register Timofey in fragments now.
