[Sophie’s POV]

They discharge me the next morning.

The doctor goes through a list of instructions so long that Cassian actually takes notes on his phone—rest, hydration, prenatal vitamins, stress reduction, follow-up appointment in one week. She gives me pamphlets about pregnancy nutrition and mental health resources and the early warning signs of complications.

I nod at all of it, feeling oddly disconnected from my own body, like I’m watching someone else receive information about someone else’s pregnancy.

Adrian handles the paperwork at the front desk while Cassian helps me change out of the hospital gown and back into the clothes Cleo brought from my apartment. The dress I’d planned to wear on the train. The shoes I’d packed for my new life in Boston.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

“You okay?” Cassian asks, his hand hovering near my elbow as I slip on my shoes.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Everything feels surreal. Like I’m going to wake up and still be on that floor.”

His jaw tightens. “You’re not on the floor. You’re here. You’re safe.”

“I know.” I straighten, testing my balance. The dizziness is mostly gone, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that I suspect won’t fade for a while. “I just need time to adjust.”

When we emerge into the waiting room, Cleo is there with a wheelchair I absolutely do not want to sit in.

“Hospital policy,” she says before I can protest. “Just accept it.”

I accept it.

Adrian takes over pushing duties, his stride careful and measured as we make our way to the exit. The automatic doors slide open, and the morning air hits my face—cool and clean after the recycled staleness of the hospital.

I take a breath. Then another. Trying to remember what it felt like to exist in the world before everything fell apart.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

The question creates a brief, awkward silence.

“Your apartment,” Adrian says finally. “Unless you’d rather go somewhere else.”

My apartment. Where I packed the suitcase. Where I wrote the letters. Where I collapsed alone with no one to hear me fall.

“I don’t know if I can go back there right now,” I admit.

Cleo appears at my side, her hand warm on my shoulder. “You can always stay with me. For as long as you need.”

I nod, appreciating her friendship and knowing it was an option she was giving, if things go sideways in the future.

“We’ll follow in Cassian’s car. Make sure you get settled.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We want to,” Cassian says simply. “If that’s okay with you.”

I look at them—these two men who spent the night in a hospital waiting room because they couldn’t bear to leave, who listened to everything I told them without turning it into an argument, who are standing here now offering nothing but presence without pressure.

“Okay,” I say. “That’s okay.”

The ride to the apartment is quiet, but not uncomfortable. She doesn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or questions. She just drives, one hand occasionally reaching over to squeeze mine when the emotions threaten to overwhelm me.

I watch the city slide past the window—familiar streets made strange by the knowledge that I almost left them behind. That corner where Adrian first kissed me. That café where Cassian and I had our first real conversation. That park bench where we all sat together, laughing at something stupid, back before everything got so complicated.

“I almost gave all this up,” I murmur.

Cleo glances at me. “But you didn’t.”

“Because my body betrayed me first.”

I want to argue, but I’m too tired. And maybe she’s right. Maybe collapsing was my body’s way of screaming stop when my mouth couldn’t form the words.

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