I haven't spoken since it happened.
Not out loud.
I nod. I blink. I exist.
But nothing more.
Talking feels... sharp.
Like anything I say will cut me open again.
---
The hotel room is dim.
Luca's gone to the lobby to get more gauze.
He didn't ask if I wanted him to stay.
He just looked at me and said, "I'll be back."
And for once, I believed someone.
---
My phone buzzes.
A text from India.
> INDIA 🌻: pick up. Egypt's being annoying. You need to witness this.
Another buzz.
> EGYPT đź‘‘: ur welcome in advance for the chaos about to unfold.
Then the phone rings.
---
For a second, I consider ignoring it.
But my thumb moves on its own.
I press answer and lift it to my ear.
Silence.
Not mine.
Theirs.
Then-
> "SENNA," India says dramatically. "Tell your goddaughter she cannot wear white boots with lime green leggings and a fur vest."
> "I told you," Egypt hisses. "It's a look. It's called fashion-forward."
> "It's called 2013 Tumblr throw-up," India snaps.
They bicker for a while, completely unaware of the war happening behind my eyes.
I say nothing.
Just listen.
Like I'm underwater, and their voices are the only air left.
---
> "Anyway," Egypt says finally, "you've been quiet. What's up?"
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
> "Sen?"
India's voice shifts.
Softer.
> "You good?"
---
I force a breath through my nose.
Try again.
> "I'm fine," I whisper.
There's a pause.
A silence shaped exactly like doubt.
> "That was the least fine 'I'm fine' I've ever heard," Egypt mutters.
> "What happened?" India asks carefully.
> "Did someone say something?"
> "Is it that demon spawn Rachel again?"
> "Do I need to send a pigeon bomb?"
Their voices go from amused to concerned in under ten seconds.
They've always been like this - quick to joke, quicker to protect.
---
I glance at the door.
Still closed.
Luca's not back yet.
I curl tighter on the bed.
My sleeve hides the bandage.
My mouth hides the scream.
---
> "Senna," India says again, quieter this time. "We don't need details. Just... blink twice if you're being held hostage by your emotions."
I let out a breath that might've been a laugh.
Might've been a sob.
Even I'm not sure anymore.
---
Egypt says, "Hey. It's okay not to talk. Just... let us stay on the line, yeah?"
I nod.
They can't see me.
But I think they know.
> "We'll just rant about dumb things until you're sick of us," India says brightly.
"Today's topic: why cafeteria mac and cheese should be illegal."
> "It's 2025. We deserve creamy," Egypt adds.
They talk.
And talk.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I close my eyes.
Their voices blur into comfort.
Like wind through curtains.
Like someone humming a lullaby they forgot the words to.
---
I don't say anything else.
But I listen to every word.
Like a thread tugging me through the fog.
Like a hand in the dark that says: We still see you.
Even if I don't want to be seen.
---
The door opens.
I don't flinch.
Luca walks in, quiet as breath.
He sees me curled on the bed, phone still to my ear.
He mouths, "India?"
I nod.
He doesn't interrupt.
Just sets the supplies down, sits nearby.
Close, but not touching.
Listening.
Waiting.
---
> "Okay," India says, "we're gonna hang up now, but only because you need to rest and Egypt just spilled nail polish on my bedspread."
> "Tell her it adds personality!" Egypt yells in the background.
> "We love you," India says softly, back on the phone. "Even when you don't feel like yourself."
> "Especially then," Egypt adds. "Okay? You don't have to be shiny for us."
---
The call ends.
The silence returns.
But this time, it's... different.
Not empty.
Just... still.
---
Luca doesn't ask what they said.
Doesn't press.
He just sits.
Watching me breathe.
Letting me be broken.
Letting me stay.
---
For the first time in days, I don't feel like a ghost.
Just a girl.
A tired, cracked-open girl.
But still here.