I heard his footsteps retreating down the hall, each one fading until there was nothing left but silence again.
It’s time.
The words settled heavily in my chest.
I pushed myself upright slowly, bracing one hand against the mattress.
Pain flared along my ribs but I pushed through it, teeth clenching briefly until it dulled into something manageable.
Still, I moved.
At the vanity, I paused.
The girl staring back at me didn’t look like someone about to have a life-altering conversation.
She looked like a ghost.
Skin too pale.
Dark circles bruising the space beneath my eyes.
Hair dull, lifeless around my shoulders.
For a moment, I just stared.
Then I reached for the powder.
Light strokes.
Enough to soften the worst of it, not erase it.
I didn’t have the energy to pretend to be whole—but I could at least look... less broken.
A quick spritz of perfume at my neck, my wrists.
Something subtle.
Something that didn’t scream desperation.
Something that said I still had control—even if it was a lie.
I exhaled once, steadying myself.
Then I stepped out into the corridor.
The walk felt longer than it should have.
Every step echoed.
Past the guest wing’s sitting room, where books sat untouched on polished shelves, spines uncracked, as if no one had ever truly lived here.
Through the arched gallery.
Down the wide marble staircase.
Across the main foyer.
My heels clicked against the polished stone, the sound too loud in the vast space, bouncing off high ceilings and cold walls.
