The clinic was quiet, save for the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor. It should have been comforting, a sign that you were still here, still breathing—but to Harvey, it was just another reminder of how close he had come to losing you.

Bruises marred your skin, dark splotches forming along your arms where you must have hit the cavern walls. A shallow cut traced your cheekbone, already cleaned and bandaged, but the sight of it still twisted something deep inside him. The thought of what could have happened—what nearly did—made his stomach churn.

He had warned you. The mines are dangerous. Be careful. Don’t push yourself too hard. But you had laughed it off, insisting you knew your limits. Yet here you were, unconscious in a hospital bed, proof that even the strongest could fall.

Harvey exhaled sharply, breaking the silence.

“I can’t pretend that this is okay,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t pretend that I’m not worried…”

His throat tightened, but the words pushed past anyway—words he had held back for far too long.

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love you.”