Kai's fingers clenched a little more on the sandwich as Vianne's soft question hung in the cold hospital air. He didn't glance up at her immediately—just gazed down at the wrapper, the way it wrinkled in his fingers.
"Well… who is Noah?" she asked again, softly this time. "You never said anything about him. It's all right if you don't tell me.
He swallowed, his voice sounding rough. "He's… someone I once loved."
Vianne blinked, shocked not so much by the confession itself, but by the heaviness behind it.
"I mean," Kai continued, still staring downward, "he was my everything. My beginning. My end. And… the middle part that hurt like hell."
A silence. Then quietly, he continued, "Five years ago, we were to start a life. But he went. Just vanished. I hated him for it. But I never stopped—" He caught himself. "It doesn't matter. I don't speak of him because it still burns."
Vianne spoke softly. "But you believe he saved you?"
Kai finally glanced at her. "I know he did."
