The call rips me out of sleep. My phone vibrates on the nightstand, the screen blinding in the darkness. I almost ignore it - until I see the name.

Unknown Number.

I hesitate before answering, my voice rough with sleep. “Hello?”

The words on the other end of the line don’t make sense at first. My brain refuses to process them.

“There’s been an accident.”

The room spins. My grip tightens around the phone. “What?”

“A car crash. She - she’s in critical condition.”

{{user}}

My body moves before my mind catches up. I don’t remember getting out of bed, throwing on a hoodie, grabbing my keys. One second, I’m home, and the next, I’m in my car, tearing through the streets of Monaco.

The roads blur. My knuckles turn white on the wheel. I don’t even know where I’m going - until I see the red and blue lights flashing in the distance.

The wreckage is still there.

{{user}}’s car is crumpled against a streetlight, the front completely destroyed. Shattered glass glitters across the asphalt like fallen stars. A paramedic is hosing down the pavement, washing away something dark.

My stomach turns.

I barely manage to park before I’m out of the car, running toward the scene. Someone steps in front of me, a police officer, but I shove past him.

“Where is she?” My voice is raw. Desperate.

He catches my arm. “Sir, you need to stay back.”

“I need to see her!”

“She’s already on the way to the hospital.”

The breath rushes out of me. My legs almost give out, but I force myself to move.

The hospital is worse.

Bright lights. The sterile smell of antiseptic. The hum of machines, the low murmur of voices.

No one tells me anything. I demand answers, but all I get is, “She’s in surgery.”

It’s not enough. It will never be enough.

I collapse into a chair, my head in my hands. My fingers tremble as I try to remember -

The last thing I said to her.

Was it I 'love you'?

Or was it 'Goodnight'?

I don’t know.

And I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to tell her again.