Darkness.
Ethan drifted in it. A vast ocean of silence, weightless and without end. It was not cold, not painful—just still. Time had no meaning here. Memory ebbed and flowed like distant stars blinking behind clouds.
There had been voices once. Dreams. Faces.
But they were echoes.
For so long, he had slept in the quiet cradle between life and death, not truly dreaming, not truly gone.
Then, something touched him.
A warmth, familiar… achingly familiar.
It was not a memory—it was a presence.
Golden. Fierce. Heartbreaking.
Harley.
He could feel her again, not as an echo, but real—vibrant, trembling with emotion. Her essence sang against his like a lost melody finally found.
And with it came the whispers of others… faint… distant.
Clara.
Trevor.
The wives.
His world.
The fog that had kept him suspended in limbo began to thin, curling away like mist before the sun.
He heard it.
A voice.
Small. Desperate. Real.
"Wake up, my love… please."
Light pierced the darkness.
