Sixteen

Hazel.

The party was a blur of laughter, music, and swirling lights. But amidst the chaos, there was a moment frozen in time, etched into the deepest recesses of my memory—the rooftop. Chris and I, cocooned in our own world, away from the pulsating energy below. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the soft glow illuminating his features. I remember how his eyes sparkled with dreams of the future as he spoke, his words weaving promises of forever.

"I can see it, Hazel," he murmured, exhaling a plume of smoke into the night air. "Us, together, conquering the world."

And in that moment, I believed him. I believed in us. My heart swelled with love and hope, the weight of his words anchoring me to a future I yearned to embrace.

But time has a cruel way of unraveling even the strongest of bonds. Life happened—dreams shattered, promises broken, and love faded like a fleeting whisper carried away by the wind.

And now, here I am, lying in a sterile hospital room