Chapter 17

The following days blurred into a haze of fear, exhaustion, and desperate determination. The memory of Ryan collapsing in the hospital, the blood soaking his shirt, haunted my every waking moment. I replayed it over and over, trying to piece together anything that could help me find the person responsible. But there was nothing—no face, no clear direction the shots had come from. Just chaos, panic, and Ryan’s body crumpling to the ground.

When I went to work the next day, trying to find some semblance of normalcy, Mia intercepted me in the hallway. Her face was a mask of concern, and I could see the worry lines etched deeper than usual. “Amira, you can’t be here right now,” she said softly, her voice gentle but firm.

I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off. “No. I’m not letting you do this to yourself. You need time to process, to rest. You’ve been through too much.”

“I’m fine, Mia,” I insisted, though the quiver in my voice betrayed me. “I need to be here. I need to keep working, keep my mind occupied.”

But Mia wasn’t having any of it. She shook her head, her expression resolute. “I’m giving you leave, Amira. You’re not fit to work in this state. Go home, take care of yourself, and when you’re ready, we’ll be here. But for now, you need to heal.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her that I didn’t need time off, that I needed to keep going, but the weight of everything was too much. The thought of being alone with my thoughts, of facing the silence and the memories, terrified me. But Mia was right—I wasn’t okay, and pretending otherwise wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Ryan.

I spent the next few days in a daze, my mind trapped in a vicious cycle of guilt and helplessness. I couldn’t shake the image of Ryan lying in that hospital bed, motionless, his chest rising and falling with the help of machines. Every time I visited him, the sight broke me a little more. The man I loved, the man who had been full of life and energy, reduced to this fragile state, fighting for every breath.

Eva, Daniel, and Mia were constant presences, each of them trying to be strong for me, for each other. But I could see the fear in their eyes, the way their voices trembled when they spoke about the future. None of us knew if Ryan would wake up, if he would survive this, and that uncertainty gnawed at us all.

Eva, always so composed, was visibly shaken. She had been the one to take charge in the immediate aftermath, barking orders, trying to stabilize Ryan while the rest of us were still in shock. But now, with the adrenaline gone, I could see how much this was affecting her. She was quieter, her usual sharpness dulled by worry.

Daniel, too, was struggling. He tried to hide it, to put on a brave face, but I knew him too well. The way he lingered at Ryan’s bedside, the way he clung to hope, even as the days passed without any sign of improvement—it broke my heart to see him like this.

Mia was the rock, holding us all together, even as she dealt with her own grief. She kept things running smoothly at the hospital, made sure Ryan was getting the best care possible, and was always there for me when I needed someone to talk to. But I could see the toll it was taking on her, the strain in her eyes, the exhaustion she couldn’t hide.

As for me, I was barely holding on. The guilt was suffocating, a constant reminder that I had failed to protect Ryan, that I had let this happen. The police investigation was going nowhere—the shooter had vanished, leaving no trace behind. The CCTV footage from that day had been mysteriously corrupted, rendering it useless. It was as if someone had planned this, had known exactly how to cover their tracks. The more I thought about it, the more the frustration and anger simmered inside me. How could someone do this to Ryan? To us? And why? What was the motive? There were so many questions, and not a single answer.

But I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Ryan needed me, and I needed to find the person responsible. I threw myself into the investigation, determined to do whatever it took to uncover the truth. I scoured through every piece of information I could get my hands on, replayed every detail of that day in my mind, hoping that something, anything, would give me a lead. But it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.