Nicolas

The world returned in fragments.

First, the sound — waves crashing against rock, slow and relentless. Then the pain — sharp, crawling beneath my skin like fire that refused to die. And then, finally, her voice.

“Papa… wake up.”

It was soft, trembling, far away.

My body refused to move, but my mind clung to that voice — Vanessa’s voice. My daughter. My heart.

When I opened my eyes, everything was dark.

The air was damp, thick with the scent of old stone and salt. ...