The Mysterious Message

The rain was relentless, pouring down in thick sheets that blurred the world into a smear of gray. Anastasia could barely see through the downpour, but she didn’t need to. She felt it—the steady rise and fall of Maximilian’s chest beneath her trembling hands. He was alive.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, mingling with the rain as she cradled him closer, her heart pounding in relief. The moments after the gunshot had been a blur of panic and fear, her mind racing with the thought that she might lose him. But now, as she knelt in the shelter of the crumbling storefront, all that mattered was that he had survived.

“Max…” Her voice cracked, barely a whisper as she clung to him, her fingers digging into his soaked jacket. His eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain but still holding that spark of life that had kept them both going through the darkest moments.

“Hey,” he rasped, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re… still stuck with me.”