Mailah lay trapped in the silence of the room, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the hallway—a sound that felt less like time passing and more like a countdown. Every beat of her heart sent a sharp, white-hot reminder of her broken leg through her body.
She was alone. Truly, terrifyingly alone.
Hours bled into one another, turning the sunlight into a bruised purple dusk. She watched the shadows stretch across the floor, creeping toward the bed like ink spilled on parchment. Her mind kept replaying the last few months, dissecting every argument and every moment of cold, suffocating distance between her and Grayson. She realized now that she hadn't been fighting for their marriage; she had been fighting to control a man whose nature was fundamentally incompatible with her own. She had pushed him away with her constant need for answers, and now, the silence was the consequence.
A floorboard creaked outside her door.
