The silence of the night had begun to settle over the house like a heavy shroud. Outside, the dark sky seemed to mirror Celina’s state of mind as she walked back toward the bedroom, her heart weighed down after speaking with Mrs. Sara in the kitchen. The old woman’s tender words still echoed in her head, but they were drowned out the moment she opened the door and found Thor restless in bed.

He tossed and turned in the sheets, his body shaking under the grip of a raging fever. Sweat streamed down his forehead, his half-open eyes blind to the present. Thor was speaking to the past. He called out his late wife’s name in fevered delirium, then murmured—

“Theo, my son… forgive me…”

His voice cracked, and then, in a whisper that cut through Celina’s heart like a blade, he called for her.

“Celina… forgive me… don’t leave me… I love you…”

She froze for a heartbeat, lungs emptying of air. The weight of those words, spoken in fever yet laced with raw sincerity, hit her like an avalanche of emo