“Thank you,” he whispered weakly.
Callum swallowed hard.
“Try to get some sleep, yeah?”
The old man nodded faintly. Callum pulled the blankets over him carefully, tucking them around his shoulders out of instinct more than thought. For a moment, his taid caught his wrist before he could pull away.
There was panic in his eyes again.
“You’ll still be here tomorrow?”
The question shattered something fresh inside him.
“Yeah,” Callum answered immediately, forcing steadiness into his voice. “I’ll still be here.”
His taid relaxed little by little, reassured enough to finally let his eyes close.
Callum stayed there longer than necessary, sitting beside the bed in silence while the room filled with the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the uneven sound of his grandfather’s breathing.
Only when he was sure he had fallen asleep did Callum finally stand.
The hallway felt unbearably quiet.
Every step toward his bedroom felt heavier than the last, his chest tightening harder and harder the farther he got from that room. He kept seeing his taid’s face in flashes—the fear in his eyes, the trembling apology, the desperate way he had said I don’t want to forget you.
By the time he reached his door, his hands were shaking.
Alejandra was sitting on the bed when he walked in, a book resting open in her lap. Warm lamplight softened her features, casting theroom in gold. She looked up immediately the second the door clicked shut.
And she knew. He saw it happen instantly in her expression. The concern. The understanding. The quiet heartbreak. She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t force words out of him. And somehow that destroyed the last fragile piece of composure he had left.
Callum’s back hit the door. Then his knees gave out beneath him. He slid down slowly until he was sitting on the floor, one hand pressed hard against his mouth as though he could physically hold the grief inside himself if he tried hard enough.
But he couldn’t. The sob tore out of him violently.
Raw. Helpless. Humiliating.
Callum bent forward, shoulders shaking hard enough to hurt, every breath catching painfully in his throat. Years of restraint collapsed all at once beneath the unbearable reality of watching the strongest person he knew disappear piece by piece.
“There’s nothing I can do,” he choked out between uneven breaths. “I can’t—I can’t fix it.”
Alejandra was in front of him before he even realized she had moved. She sank onto the floor beside him immediately, arms wrapping around him without hesitation. One hand slid into his hair while the other held him tightly against her, anchoring him through the breakdown.
“It’s okay,” she whispered softly, over and over again.
Callum shook his head against her shoulder, crying harder.
“He apologized to me,” he managed to say, voice cracking apart completely. “He said he was sorry.”
Alejandra’s grip tightened.
“Oh, Callum…”
He buried his face against her neck, overcome with grief so sharp it felt almost unbearable. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadcried like this. Maybe he never had. Not even after the injury. Not even after everything with Vanessa.
Because this felt different. This wasn’t loss all at once. It was loss in slow motion.
And somehow that was crueler.
