White.
That was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.
A ceiling so white it almost hurt to look at.
Too quiet.
Too still.
My mouth was dry. My limbs heavy.
But none of it mattered.
My hand, shaky, trembling, lowered to my stomach.
Flat.
No heartbeat.
No gentle kick.
No weight.
Just… emptiness.
I stared at the ceiling, waiting for someone to say it out loud.
That it was all just a dream.
That I hadn't really lost everything in one night.
But the silence answered first.
And it was deafening.
My throat burned as my breath started to shake, but no sound came.
Not yet.
Not when I still had hope, some foolish, desperate part of me praying this was some cruel mistake.
The door creaked open.
Leon.
His face was pale, and his eyes looked like he hadn't slept in days.
He stepped inside carefully, like walking too fast might break me all over again.
He didn't say a word.
I didn't either.
My hand remained on my belly.
Still waiting.
Still hoping.
"Nyx…" he whispered, voice tight and cracking.
But I already knew.
I felt it.
The absence.
The finality.
I turned my head toward the window, toward the light I didn't deserve to look at, and let the tears fall.
Softly.
Quietly.
Because loud grief would have meant I still had something left to scream for.
I didn't.
And still, my hand stayed pressed over where my baby should have been.
Where life once grew.
Where love was supposed to bloom.
Now, only silence remained.
And the ache of a goodbye I never got to say.
The world was hushed.
Only the slow beep of the heart monitor kept time.
I didn't want to be here.
In this white box of a room.
In this body that failed me.
I lay still for what felt like hours.
Eyes open.
Tears dry.
Voice gone.
Until it found its way back, fragile and cracked like glass held together by memory.
"Leon…"
His name didn't come out strong. It barely came out at all.
He moved closer immediately, like he'd been waiting for me to say something, anything.
But I didn't look at him.
I couldn't.
"My cube…" I said. "Where is it?"
He flinched. I heard it.
A breath caught.
A silence that meant he was remembering it too.
Without a word, he reached into his bag.
Gently, like it was something sacred, or something that burned him to touch.
And then I felt it.
The cold, familiar surface pressing into my palm.
I clutched it to my chest.
Tighter than anything I'd ever held.
Like it was all I had left.
It flickered in my hands.
Weak at first. Then stronger.
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time since I woke up, I spoke—not to Leon, but to the soul sealed within.
"I lost them, Nico... our baby... I lost her."
The cube pulsed.
And I swore I felt warmth.
Not from Leon.
Not from the hospital.
But from him.
From the weight of a promise long kept.
From love that lingered in a hollowed-out world.
I turned away from Leon's presence.
Not to punish him.
Not yet.
But because I couldn't bear to face the one who had a hand in all of it.
I had nothing left to give.
Except this grief.
And this cube.
And the voice inside it that never once betrayed me.
[Leon's Perspective]
The hallway was quiet, too quiet, as Leon moved through it with a careful, hopeful tread.
Nyx had just been discharged. She hadn't said much, not to him, not to anyone, but she walked beside him, cube pressed to her chest, her gaze cast to the floor like it held the answer to all the things she couldn't speak.
He told himself that maybe this was the beginning.
Maybe he could fix this.
He was ready.
The moment they got home, she went straight to the bedroom. Said nothing. Closed the door behind her.
Leon stood in the kitchen, one hand on the counter, the other fisting his shirt where his heart pounded.
He had rehearsed it. Over and over.
He would tell her the truth.
All of it.
No excuses. No pretending.
She deserved honesty, even if it crushed her. Even if it cost him everything.
He was going to do it.
But then—
A sound.
Not the soft patter of footsteps or the rustle of clothes.
It was heavy.
Final.
A thud.
His heart stopped.
"Nyx?" he called, already running.
The door wouldn't open.
He shoved it. "Nyx, open the door!"
No answer.
He slammed his shoulder against it. Once. Twice. The third time it burst open with a crack.
And there she was.
Crumbled on the floor beside the bed.
Blood trailing down her wrist.
The cube dimly glowing where it had rolled across the carpet.
Her lips pale.
Her skin, too still.
"NO---!" His voice broke into something wild, something desperate.
He dropped to his knees, gathered her into his arms. "Nyx, Nyx, no, don't do this to me…"
She wasn't unconscious. Not fully. But her eyes…
Empty.
Not angry. Not even sad.
Just gone.
It was in that moment he felt it--
The sick twist of irony.
He had once saved her from the edge.
Brought her back from the cliff.
Promised her warmth, peace, a reason to live.
Now, he was the reason she jumped.
Back in the hospital.
The same sterile smell.
The same white walls.
The same fear, but now soaked with guilt that no prayer could clean.
The doctors moved quickly.
She would live, they said.
But Leon?
He wasn't sure he would.
Because he had broken the one soul who trusted him when no one else ever did.
Nyx was discharged again.
This time, the walk from the hospital doors to the car felt longer than before. He offered his arm.
She didn't take it.
She walked like a ghost.
Hands limp at her sides, eyes cast forward, yet not seeing.
Like she wasn't really there.
The doctor had pulled Leon aside before they left. His words still echoed in Leon's skull.
"She's experiencing clinical depression. Deep, consuming. She'll need full-time care, Leon. Constant attention. She's severely at risk."
He nodded numbly. He didn't need the warning.
He already knew.
She didn't speak on the ride home.
Didn't flinch when he opened the door for her.
Didn't look when he tucked her gently into their bed.
The same bed that once knew warmth, laughter, shared breakfasts and midnight talks.
Now it cradled only silence.
And grief.
---
Days bled into each other.
Leon cleared his schedule. Took a leave from work. He stayed by her side, day and night. Watching. Waiting.
He cooked her favorite meals.
But she wouldn't eat unless he lifted the spoon himself, gently pressing it to her lips, patient as if feeding a child.
"Nyx," he'd whisper, voice cracking, "Please… just a little."
And she'd open her mouth, slow, mechanical, as if responding to a sound but not a voice.
She never once asked him why.
Never once accused him.
That hurt the most.
She just gave up. Not in a burst. Not in rage. But in quiet, endless surrender.
---
He heard her crying sometimes.
Late at night, when he pretended to sleep beside her. Her hand clutched to her belly. Whispering things no one else could hear.
She'd fall asleep with tear tracks on her cheeks, face buried against the place where life once grew.
She didn't ask about the baby.
She didn't ask about anything.
---
The attempts came slowly. Subtle. Calculated.
The broken glass from a picture frame.
The scissors she kept under her pillow.
The window she once stood near far too long, just staring down.
Every time he left the room for a second too long, he feared he'd return to find her gone again.
And each time he stopped her, her face didn't twist in fear or guilt.
Just… disappointment.
As if he robbed her of peace.
---
Leon was crumbling.
He kissed her forehead while she stared blankly past him.
He whispered apologies in the quiet hours, begging for forgiveness she wouldn't even acknowledge.
He held her hand while her body remained cold in his.
And every time she looked at him,
with eyes that saw through him---
He saw it.
That moment again.
That betrayal.
That room.
That bed.
Samantha.
He did this.
He killed whatever was left of Nyx's spirit.
And now, he was watching her disappear inch by inch.
And he was powerless to stop it.
[Nyx's perspective]
I'm still here.
I don't know why.
Maybe because Leon is fast. Too fast.
Too alert, too desperate, too full of guilt that even silence can't hush him.
Every time I reach for an ending, his arms are there.
Every time I seek peace, he drags me back to this breathless world.
And every time he saves me,
It hurts more.
I should've died that night.
With my child.
With the only remaining good in me.
Instead, I live.
In this empty, sunlit room.
Cursed by warmth that lies.
---
I no longer believe in love.
Not the way I used to.
Not after seeing it dressed in betrayal.
I look at Leon, and he says "I love you" with his eyes.
But all I see is her.
All I feel is them.
The scent of lust that wasn't mine.
The touch I begged for, withheld for months,
given freely to someone else.
To Samantha.
My old friend.
My ghost of innocence.
---
Some days, I whisper apologies to the baby who never saw the light.
"I'm sorry I couldn't keep you safe."
But most days...
Most days I'm too far inside myself to even speak.
There's a voice in me now.
Not my mother.
Not Nico.
Not anyone I've loved.
Just… a dull, hoarse whisper that says:
"You're a fool for loving again."
"Every warmth burns."
"Let go."
---
Every attempt wasn't a cry for help.
It was salvation.
It was mercy.
A way to stop the ache.
But Leon keeps stopping me.
He holds my hands. Cries into my hair.
Feeds me soup. Kisses my forehead like it'll reverse time.
He thinks he's saving me.
But every heartbeat he forces back into my chest feels like a punishment.
A brand across my soul reminding me I was too weak to die.
I've become a prisoner of mercy.
A hostage of a love I no longer want to believe in.
---
Sometimes, I sit by the window.
Not to fall.
Not anymore.
Just to remember how it felt to be on the edge.
That moment before gravity took hold.
That split second of peace.
That's the only place where the silence doesn't scream.
---
I don't speak much.
Leon keeps waiting.
Every day. Every hour.
He holds my hand like it's still warm.
Talks to me like I'm still listening.
Tells me about house repairs, the weather, or the soup he made too salty.
I nod. Sometimes.
But it's all a blur.
He broke me.
And he doesn't know how to fix the pieces, because some of them are gone.
Forever.
---
I sleep with the cube now.
Nico's cube.
It doesn't flicker anymore.
Or maybe I stopped seeing it.
Maybe Nico turned his back on me too.
And I wouldn't blame him.
---
This is who I am now.
Not Nyx who dared to hope.
Not Nyx who believed in redemption.
I am shadow.
I am ache.
And love?
Love is the cruelest lie of all.
I woke up again today.
I don't know how many mornings it's been since I stopped wanting to.
The sun still rose. The air still moved.
But me?
I was just... here.
Breathing without purpose.
---
I don't remember deciding to go out.
I just moved.
Maybe it was instinct.
Maybe it was the quiet that felt too loud.
Or maybe something in me needed to break finally, instead of endlessly bending.
I left without a plan.
No phone. No bag. No jacket.
But I brought the cube.
Tucked it into the pocket of my coat like a fragile heart.
It always came with me.
It always would.
---
The city moved around me, fast and uninterested.
I walked.
I didn't know where I was going until I saw the building, Leon's office.
And then the door opened.
And there they were.
Leon.
And Samantha.
---
I don't know what expression I had on my face.
I just remember how fast Leon's shifted, panic.
And how Samantha's fell, guilt, fear... and desperation.
Her hand dropped to her stomach.
There was no need to ask.
I saw it.
She's pregnant.
---
They rushed to me.
Leon tried to reach for my arm.
Samantha whispered, "Nyx, please… please let me explain."
"Okay."
That was all I said.
Flat. Empty. Unmoved.
They didn't expect me to say yes.
They sat in front of me.
Two people who once had my trust, one still had my heart.
And one carried what I couldn't anymore.
Leon tried to speak first, but I raised a hand.
"Let her speak."
Samantha's voice trembled.
"Nyx… I didn't mean for any of this to happen. We were just... we were both hurting. And… it didn't just happen once. I won't lie to you. It wasn't a mistake. Not just once."
My hands didn't shake.
Not even when I felt the cube still warm in my pocket, like Nico was listening.
I looked at Leon.
"So... it was real then. Not just a slip. Not just a moment of weakness."
He lowered his gaze.
Ashamed.
Samantha continued, her hand protectively over her belly.
"I'm pregnant. We didn't mean for it to happen, but we also… we weren't careful. I'm telling you this because you deserve to know. I'm not here to fight you, Nyx. I just---"
"You're carrying his child," I said, flatly. "That's all that matters."
Leon stepped forward.
"Nyx… I made a mistake, I was selfish, I---"
"No," I interrupted. "Don't call it a mistake. You slept with her more than once. You knew exactly what you were doing every time you crawled into bed with her. So don't lie, not even to make it easier."
He had no response.
The silence became a wall, taller, colder, thicker than anything we had ever built together.
"I already buried one child. While you were off creating another."
That's when the tears came.
Not mine.
His.
I didn't have any left.
---
I turned to the bedroom.
They followed, saying my name over and over like it could change the ending.
I didn't scream. I didn't pack much. Just clothes, essentials.
But the cube?
That was the first thing I took.
The only thing I never questioned.
---
Leon stood in the doorway.
"Please don't leave, Nyx…"
I looked at him, really looked.
Not with love.
Not even with hate.
Just hollow acceptance.
"You already made that choice for me."
I walked past him.
No more words.
No closure.
No room left for hope.
Not this time.