Mira
As I walked to the front door. I nearly collided with Lena, Evan’s personal maid, as she came out of the pantry carrying a mug. Hot steam curled from them, smelling faintly of cinnamon and honey.
“Oh—Mira!” She exclaimed, catching the tray before it tripped. “Careful. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I forced a smile. “Something like that .”
Her eyes searched my face for a moment, curious but not prying “there is tea in the kitchen if you want to warm up.”
“Thanks,” I said and kept walking.
The air in the hallway felt heavier, each breath sticking in my chest as if the walls themselves wanted to drag me back. My footsteps quickened. If I stopped moving, if I hesitated just for a second, the weight of his voice would catch up to me.
By the time I reached the end of the hall,
