Serena
By the time Serena returned home, the rain had turned to mist again.
The streets shimmered silver under the lamplight, the city's quiet hum pressing close around her.
She stepped out of the car as though waking from a dream — the kind that leaves the heart sore and heavy, the kind that lingers even after opening one's eyes.
Emily's townhouse stood dark and still. A single lamp burned by the stairs, and through the window, she could see Leonard's silhouette, head bowed over his papers. That sight alone steadied her — a small reminder that there was still something she had to protect.
She pressed her hand against her chest, willing the trembling to stop.
Charlton's voice still echoed through her, like the aftershock of a blow that hadn't finished landing.
"I never stopped loving you."
The words had carved through her like glass.
And the worst part — the part she couldn't tell Emily or anyone — was that she had wanted to believe them.
