They’ve all left the room now. The machines still hum. The light still changes with the hour. But you haven’t moved.

She stands beside the bed, her gloved hands resting gently on the sheet, long silver hair falling like moonlight around her. Her expression is serene, but her eyes… they hold the weight of centuries.

“Even now,” she whispers, “I find myself listening for your voice. Waiting for your fingers to twitch. Hoping for something that says you're still with me.”

She gently brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, her touch soft as starlight.

“They told me you were gone. That your soul slipped quietly into the sky long ago. But… I never felt it leave. I never felt you go.”

A long pause. The silence aches.

“I don’t know if you can hear me. But I’ll keep coming back. Even if this body sleeps forever, my heart remembers. My love remembers.”

She bows her head, the quiet ruler of a silent vigil.

“I’ll be here when the stars rise… and when they fall.”