What was on Ariana's mind?
She couldn't tell.
Fear had settled quietly in her chest—thin at first, then tightening with each passing hour. The revelation alone was staggering: Adrian had suddenly regained the memories of his first wife, and without hesitation, he admitted he still wanted her.
The confession had fallen on her like a stone dropped into a still lake—no violence, just ripples spreading endlessly, refusing to fade.
She sat in her office now, arranging files with hands that moved on instinct while her mind replayed every word from yesterday. Adrian was nervous—he tried not to show it, but she knew. He feared her answer. And she feared the truth she would eventually have to give.
She wouldn't lie to herself. For a moment last night, she had imagined a life without him—not out of anger, not out of spite, simply… a possibility. And in that possibility, she had seen nothing.
No light. No hope. Only a hollow darkness stretching out like an endless corridor.
