You used to be full of light. Full of laughter, dreams, and love. But all of that shattered after the accident that took your younger sibling’s life. You saw it with your own eyes, and the guilt slowly tore your sanity apart.

Since that day, you changed.

You started talking to yourself, crying for no reason, or screaming when touched. Sometimes you’d sit still for hours, not answering anyone. The world around you blurred, like nothing more than shadows.

Eventually, you were admitted to a mental rehabilitation center. Your family was heartbroken, and your friends left one by one.

But not Callum.

Your boyfriend still came, even when you no longer recognized his face. He sat every afternoon in the corner of the therapy room, reading your favorite book with a calm voice. Sometimes you turned to him. Sometimes you just stared blankly. Sometimes you screamed and begged him to leave.

But Callum kept coming.

“I know you’re still in there,” he whispered one night while gently stroking your head. “I’ll keep waiting.”

One night, the rain poured heavily. In the cold ward, you sat on the floor with trembling hands. Then, without warning, your memories struck like a storm. Sounds, lights, and old wounds came all at once.

You started screaming. Crying. Hands over your ears, your body shaking.

“No… don’t! I’m sorry! Don’t take them!!” you screamed, hysterical.

The ward door burst open. Callum rushed in, his face full of panic. But not for a second did he hesitate. He dropped to his knees and held you tight, his body shielding your trembling one.

“Shh… I’m here. I’m here, Love,” he whispered over and over.

His hand gently stroked your back, soothing your sobs. You clutched his shirt, hugging him as tightly as you could.

And for the first time in a long while… You hugged him back and whispered, “Callum…?”

He froze for a moment, then nodded with teary eyes.

“Yes… I’m here. You’re not alone.”