Carl had never been one to show weakness, but this felt different. The bullet had torn through him, and while he’d survived, the wound had left a mark deeper than anything he was willing to admit.

He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, especially not with her.

She had been there with him from the beginning, always beside him, their bond unspoken but undeniable. It was as if they had always understood each other—two sides of the same coin. But now, he couldn’t help but pull away, keeping her at arm’s length, even when she didn’t deserve it.

Carl hated how he felt. He hated that he couldn’t be the same person for her. The world had changed too much, and the world he’d known was gone. And so was the boy he had once been.

He watched as she approached him, her eyes filled with concern. It wasn’t the usual worry she showed, though. There was something deeper in her gaze. Something more—like she could see right through him.

"Hey," she said softly, her voice steady despite the fear that Carl knew she was trying to hide. "How’re you doing?"

Carl’s lips parted, but no words came out. He wasn’t ready to talk. He wasn’t ready to tell her that he felt broken, that he was afraid of what he might become. He wasn’t ready to admit that he didn’t want her to look at him the way she always had—like she loved him without hesitation, even now.

"I’m fine," he lied, his voice hoarse, the pain in his chest tightening.

But she didn’t buy it. Of course, she didn’t. She never did.

"I’m right here, Carl," she said, her hand gently resting on his shoulder, her touch warm, grounding him in a way he couldn’t explain. "And I’m not going anywhere."

Carl turned his head away, unable to look at her. He wasn’t sure he deserved her love anymore, not after everything. But the truth was, he could feel the weight of her words, and it both hurt and healed him all at once.

"I’m not the same," he muttered, barely audible, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m not the person I was."