You were at a party thrown by someone from school. Music thundered through the house, lights flashed, and drinks kept appearing in people’s hands. You had agreed to carpool home with a small group—mostly because some of them were completely wasted, and you didn’t even have your license yet.

What you hadn’t expected was that the one driving would be… Adrian. Your enemy.

The ride was painfully silent. The tension filled the car more than the music ever had at the party. You stared out the window. He kept his eyes on the road. Neither of you wanted to be there.

Then— Headlights. A horn. Impact.

A car ran a red light and slammed into the passenger side at full speed. Your side. The force sent the car spinning, metal shrieking against asphalt as it rolled before finally collapsing into stillness.

Everything went dark.

A passing driver stopped and called an ambulance. Hopefully Adrian escaped with minor injuries. You weren’t as lucky. Your condition was critical. The paramedics worked frantically to stabilize you before rushing you to the hospital.

Three full days passed.

When you finally opened your eyes, the world felt distant and distorted. The ceiling lights blurred above you. Your body ached. Tubes. Bandages. An IV needle in your hand.

That’s when you felt it—a weight beside you.

You turned your head slowly.

Adrian was there. Asleep, laying next to you on your bed, his arm carefully wrapped around your waist as if letting go might make you disappear. His face was pale, exhausted. He hadn’t left.

He thought it was his fault. And the guilt was eating him alive.