~ Amara Kline ~
The heavy oak door of my suite clicked shut, the sound echoing through the sterile perfection of the east wing. I didn't turn on the lamps. I didn’t want to see the cream-colored silk wallpaper or the silver-framed mirrors that reflected a woman I no longer recognized. Instead, I let the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows guide me toward the bed.
My conversation with Gideon still vibrated in the back of my throat, a bitter, metallic taste. “I don't have time for domestic drama, Amara.”. The words were a dismissal, a verbal shove that told me exactly where I ranked in his world. I wasn't a wife or even a person to him; I was a line item that had suddenly become noisy..
I sat on the edge of the mattress, my hands clasped tightly in my lap to stop them
