Refusing to give you up

The sterile white walls of the hospital seemed to amplify the silence, each beat of Sanem's heart a deafening drum against her ribs. She watched Can walk away, his broad shoulders slumped, his head bowed as if carrying the weight of the world. He didn't even glance back. A cold dread seeped into her, confirming what her heart already knew: he was leaving.
Her hand instinctively shot out, a desperate, futile gesture to grasp at the space where he had been. But he was gone, swallowed by the exit. Why hadn't he read her journal? Or if he had, why the silence? Why hadn't he offered a single word, a hint?
"Trust, Sanem," an inner voice whispered, like a phantom limb. She waved a hand in front of her face, trying to dispel the thought.
"Trust. He wanted to know that you believed in him," the voice persisted, a cruel echo of her own failing.
