Breathless ✓

Twenty - Seven ✔

Rico's hesitation is palpable. "The car... it exploded. They think he might have burned in it."

A gasp escapes me, and Amara clutches her chest. The room suddenly feels like it's closing in on us, the air thick with shock and grief.

"No..." I murmur, the words catching in my throat. "He can't be gone."

Rico lifts his eyes, his expression pained. "They're searching the area, but it doesn't look good. I'm so sorry, Victoria."

I can't comprehend the reality of those words. Christian, the man who had become my anchor in the storm, possibly gone in an instant. Tears blur my vision as I struggle to find my voice.

Amara grips my hand, her own eyes brimming with sorrow. "We can't lose hope, Victoria. Let's wait for more information."

But the weight of the news presses down on us, casting a dark shadow over any glimmer of hope. Rico looks torn, caught between his duty and the personal connection he has with Christian.

The weight of the news anchors me to the couch, leaving me numb and paralyzed by the sudden void that Christian's absence creates. Regret wraps around me like a suffocating shroud, and the echoes of all those moments when I pushed him away reverberate in my mind.

I replay the times I hesitated to let him in, the walls I built to protect myself now serving as a cruel reminder of the missed chances. The laughter we shared, the vulnerabilities we exchanged—each memory stings with the bitter realization that I may never get the chance to create more.

Amara's comforting words barely register as my mind plunges into a whirlpool of what-ifs and maybes. The times Christian stood by me, a pillar of strength when I was alone and lost, replay like a poignant movie in my mind. He became my confidant, the person I leaned on, and now, with the possibility of him being gone, the regret gnaws at my insides.

"He was always there for me," I whisper, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "And I pushed him away."

Amara's grip on my hand tightens, offering silent solace. "Victoria, you didn't know this would happen. Don't blame yourself."

But blame and regret dance in tandem, a merciless waltz in the caverns of my mind. The warmth of the fireplace becomes a cruel contrast to the cold reality that now surrounds me.

I close my eyes, attempting to block out the harshness of the news. Flashes of Christian's smile, the genuine concern in his eyes, flood my thoughts. From the moment he entered my life, he became a constant, a source of strength and understanding that I never knew I needed.

I remember the way he helped me pick up the pieces when I felt shattered, the reassurance he offered when I doubted myself. Even now, in his potential absence, he's out there, protecting me from whatever danger lurks in the shadows.

A mixture of gratitude and longing fills me. I wish I could go back, erase the moments of hesitation, and embrace the connection that had slowly woven its threads into the fabric of my life.

Amara's voice pierces through my thoughts. "We don't know for sure, Victoria. Let's wait for more information."

I nod, trying to hold on to that sliver of hope. As we sit in the dimly lit room, the ticking clock becomes a relentless reminder of the time slipping away, the seconds stretching into an eternity of uncertainty.

Regret hangs in the air like a heavy fog, but amidst it, the flicker of gratitude remains—a flame that refuses to be extinguished. Whether Christian is still fighting against the odds or has become a part of a painful past, I hold onto the memories of the good times, the laughter, and the warmth he brought into my life.