Caleb lay awake that night, staring at the cracked ceiling of his bedroom. The shadows from the streetlights outside cast strange patterns against the peeling paint, but he barely noticed. His mind was still in the attic, still replaying Elyra’s words over and over again.

Two weeks. Maybe less.

The realization dug into him like a serrated blade, carving out pieces of his conscience that he could never put back together. She was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. No second chances. No redemption. Just an inevitable ending, creeping closer with every painful breath she took.

He turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would block out the memories, the regrets, the overwhelming shame pressing down on his chest. But it was useless. Sleep wouldn’t come. It didn’t want him.

Because deep down, he didn’t deserve rest.

A creaking sound echoed from the hallway. His ears caught the faint shuffle of footsteps. He knew who it was before he even sat up.

Elyra.

She was awake.

Caleb didn’t think—he just moved. Slipping out of bed, he followed the quiet noise until he reached the attic door. It was slightly ajar, and through the small gap, he saw her.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hunched over, her fingers clutching a small notebook. The moonlight illuminated her face, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes, the hollowness of her cheeks, the quiet suffering etched into every inch of her fragile body.

Caleb swallowed hard, gripping the doorframe. He wanted to leave. He wanted to pretend he hadn’t seen her like this. But for the first time in years, his body refused to turn away.

Instead, he knocked gently.

Elyra jumped, quickly shoving the notebook under her pillow before turning toward him. Her face was unreadable, but he could see the hesitation in her tired eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Caleb shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to say. He had no excuses, no justification for all the years of pain he had caused her. And even if he did, what would be the point? Apologies couldn’t heal bruises. Regret couldn’t turn back time.

But he had to start somewhere.

"I couldn’t sleep," he admitted. It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

Elyra didn’t respond right away. She studied him carefully, as if trying to figure out whether he was playing some cruel trick on her.

Eventually, she sighed. "Me neither."

An awkward silence stretched between them.

Caleb hesitated before stepping inside, his gaze flickering to the spot next to her. "Can I sit?"

Elyra’s brows furrowed slightly, as if the idea was so foreign that she didn’t know how to process it. But after a moment, she gave a small nod.

Caleb lowered himself onto the bed, feeling the thin mattress sink beneath his weight. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Up close, she looked even worse.

"You should be sleeping," he murmured.

Elyra gave a weak chuckle. "What’s the point?" she said. "It won’t change anything."

Caleb’s hands clenched in his lap. He hated the way she said that, as if her life was already over, as if there was nothing left to fight for. But could he blame her? They had all spent years making sure she felt like nothing.

"Why didn’t you tell anyone?" His voice came out rougher than he intended.

Elyra sighed. "Because it wouldn’t have mattered."

Caleb flinched.

She turned to face him, her expression eerily calm. "If I had told you, would you have treated me any differently?"

The truth slammed into him with the force of a hurricane.

No.

He wouldn’t have cared. He would have laughed, mocked her, told her she was being dramatic. He would have continued treating her like dirt, just like their parents.

His throat tightened, shame twisting deep in his gut. "I’m sorry," he whispered, the words foreign on his tongue.

Elyra blinked, as if she had misheard him.

Caleb exhaled shakily. "I’m sorry for everything. For blaming you, for treating you like you didn’t matter, for never noticing…" His voice cracked, and for the first time in years, he felt the sting of unshed tears. "I was a coward."

Elyra was silent for a long time. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—a sad, tired smile. "I think I stopped waiting for an apology a long time ago."

Her words cut deeper than any slap ever could.

Caleb lowered his head, his hands tightening into fists. "I don’t deserve your forgiveness."

Elyra tilted her head slightly, as if considering something. Then she said, "Maybe not. But I forgive you anyway."

His breath hitched. He stared at her in disbelief. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Because holding onto hate is exhausting. And I don’t have the energy to hate you anymore."

Caleb’s chest ached. He had spent so many years despising her, making her life miserable, only to realize—too late—that she had never once hated him back.

She had simply endured.

A sharp pain stabbed at his heart.

He had always thought of her as weak.

But now, he realized—she had been the strongest one all along.

The silence between them stretched again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, filled with unspoken regrets and things that could never be fixed.

Caleb exhaled slowly. "Is there anything I can do?"

Elyra smiled faintly. "Just sit with me."

So he did.

For the first time in years, Caleb stayed. He sat beside her, listening to the sound of her breathing, memorizing every detail—the way she tucked her knees to her chest, the slight tremble in her fingers, the exhaustion in her eyes.

Because soon, she would be gone.

And he had wasted too much time already.

That night, Caleb didn’t return to his own room.

He stayed with Elyra, watching over her as she slept, silently begging whatever cruel gods were listening to give her just a little more time.

But deep down, he knew.

Time wasn’t something they had anymore. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- To Be Continued...