The suffocating silence that settled between them felt impossibly heavy, filling every corner of the vast living room. Stephen stood several paces away from her, his dark grey eyes fixed intently upon her pale, trembling face.
Sylvaniah swallowed with great difficulty, her throat feeling utterly dry. "The woman you legally married two years ago," she began, her quiet voice barely rising above a frail whisper, "she was not truly me."
Stephen's dark brows slowly furrowed in deep confusion, his posture going rigid. "What do you mean by that statement, Sylvaniah?"
Sylvaniah closed her hazel eyes briefly, gathering every single fragment of courage remaining inside her chest. "I am not the original owner of this body, Stephen."
His composed expression froze completely in place, his breathing coming to a sudden halt. She forced herself to continue speaking despite the overwhelming fear threatening to consume her soul.
