Sunt_betiv_pe_pat_de_moarte [TRUSTED]

He took one last, shallow breath, his grip loosening. He died as he lived: caught between a bitter truth and a sweet, numbing lie.

Ion let out a wet, gravelly laugh that turned into a cough. "My heart stopped forty years ago when your mother left. This? This is just the engine finally running out of fuel." sunt_betiv_pe_pat_de_moarte

He reached out, his fingers brushing Elena’s hand. For a second, the fog cleared. He saw her—the life he had partially missed, the daughter who had stayed despite every broken promise. He took one last, shallow breath, his grip loosening

The room smelled of stale antiseptic and cheap plum brandy—the kind that burns the throat and numbs the soul. Ion lay back, his breath a ragged whistle, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it were a map of his own misspent life. "My heart stopped forty years ago when your mother left