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The silence stretched again—so heavy it weighed down the air around us. I was still sitting up in bed, watching her as she knelt before me like a fragile shadow of the woman I once knew.

Her eyes brimmed with confusion, hurt, guilt, *everything*—but she still hadn’t answered my question.

So I asked again, this time slower, firmer.

*“What exactly should I forgive you for, Aria?”*

She flinched.

And then, after a breathless pause, she stammered, “For… for using my powers. For hurting you.”

That was it.

Just that.

I stared at her, stunned by the simplicity—by the emptiness—of her response. My heart twisted violently in my chest.

She...