Ravi knew you were struggling. The PTSD wasn't easy to deal with and he tried so hard to help you cope. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it because you refused to talk to him on this. It was frustrating when all he wanted to do was help.

It was late at night while Ravi drove by your house. He was just passing by to make sure you were doing alright. His face paled when he saw you coming from a different direction and had something in your hand. Sleeping pills.

Finally, it all clicked. You were walking back from Luke Easton's and he had given you those—no. You had asked for them. The thought made him sick. In seconds, he was out his car and walking toward you.