Priscilla's POV
I can still feel the burn of my mother’s words in my ears. Each syllable pierced me like a blade. In the car, the night rushed past the window, but I could hardly breathe. Mathieu held my hand tightly, as if he wanted to tear me away from my ghosts.
“You’re safe now,” he whispered.
But am I really safe? His grip reassures me as much as it suffocates me. I close my eyes, and Samuel’s image returns: his accusing stare, his cutting words — “You’re not worthy of her.”
I tremble. Between my mother’s madness, Mathieu’s jealousy, and Samuel’s shadow, my life feels like a cage. And yet… a part of me always yields to Mathieu’s warmth, even when it frightens me.
The car stops in front of his house. My heart races. This place… I know it too well. The walls still carry the imprint
