The morning sun filtered through the hospital blinds, throwing soft golden light across the sterile white sheets.
Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, the cool floor grounding him as he slid on his shoes, slower than usual. His body still ached, reminders of what had happened clinging to his muscles.
But it wasn't the bruises that bothered him the most—it was the silence. The things he hadn't said. The truths that pressed against his throat but never made it out.
Sienna stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with that quiet intensity she was so good at.
She tilted her head observing his shaky movements. "You sure you're ready for this? Going back into the world like nothing happened?" she asked.
He didn't look at her. "Yeah, I am Sienna, I'm good."
"How can you be good, Ryan? You were kidnapped." she pressed.
Ryan nodded, buttoning up his shirt with steady fingers. "I know that but I need to move on from it."
