THREE MONTHS LATER
I scrolled through my phone as I waited for Heinrich to finish showering. I was biting on my nails, a nervous habit I hadn’t been able to shake off since I was a teenager. Honestly, I didn’t understand why I was so anxious. It was just a party. Not even a surprise party—Heinrich already knew about it. His parents had planned it to celebrate his full recovery after the attack. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion, something light-hearted and cheerful after the storm we had survived together. And yet, here I was, feeling like I couldn’t breathe.