Ariana’s POV
The room felt wrong the moment we stepped inside.
It wasn’t just the silence.
It wasn’t even the emptiness.
It was something deeper—something harder to name. Like walking into a conversation that had already ended, yet the words still lingered in the air, refusing to fade.
I paused just past the doorway, my fingers tightening slightly at my sides as I took it in.
The bed was unmade—not carelessly, but not neatly either. The covers were pulled back just enough to suggest someone had sat there, perhaps rested briefly, then risen again in a hurry. The pillows were slightly indented, holding the faint memory of a presence that was no longer there.
“She was here,” I said quietly.
The words didn’t feel like a discovery.
They felt like confirmation.
⸻
“Yes,” Damien replied
