Smoke and Silence

She came to slowly, as if rising through molasses.Her arms ached. Her throat burned. Every breath felt borrowed, fragile.

White ceiling.Sterile light.

Hospital.

Her eyelashes fluttered. A gentle beep marked the steady, laborious rhythm of her heart.Her lips were cracked, too dry to speak, but her mind was a tempest.

The fire. Seraphina. The shouting.

And before that—Pain. Smoke. Elias's voice, muffled. Seraphina screaming.

"Adeline's still inside!"

She turned her head—just barely.

And froze.

He was there.

Seated at her bedside, rigid as a man on trial. Hands clenched tight in his lap.That same ash-streaked shirt beneath the hospital robe they'd forced on him.His knuckles pink, raw from antiseptic wipes.But his hands—were bare. Ungloved.

She blinked, slower now. This wasn't a dream.

"…You're here," she rasped.

His head snapped up. His eyes found hers immediately—too sharp for someone who'd been so still.

He didn't smile. Elias never really smiled.But something flickered in his face—something dangerously close to grief.

"I'm here," he said, voice rough.

She watched him, cautious. "Where's Seraphina?"

"Safe," he replied. "She's alright."

Relief flashed in her eyes, brief but bright.Then it softened into something quieter, more fragile.

"You pulled her out," she whispered.

His jaw clenched. "She screamed your name. I didn't know…"

He hesitated.

Adeline turned away, eyes tracing the IV line, the bandages, the burns on her arm.

"Not the first time you've left me behind," she said softly.

Silence stretched.

Then his voice, low and steady:"I didn't want to. That time, I didn't have a choice."

She said nothing. Didn't need to.Her silence spoke louder than any anger.

But her body stayed still.She hadn't told him to leave.And she wasn't telling him to now.

His hand, trembling slightly, reached out to smooth the blanket near her shoulder.

No gloves. No mask. Bare skin—vulnerable.

"You stayed," she breathed.

He said nothing.But he didn't move.

And maybe that—That was as close to a confession as he'd ever make.