EMBER WELLESLEY’S POV
The room is dim. A few candles flicker near the windowsill. Rain lashes gently against the glass. I sat on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, clutching a sweater that used to belong to Ava. My eyes are red, my face pale. A storm rages silently inside me, muted only by exhaustion.
Asher stands in the doorway, hesitant. He watches me for a moment before stepping inside, shutting the door softly behind him. He crosses the room and lowers himself next to me.
“You’ve been in here for hours.” Asher said, quietly.
I do not respond. My fingers tighten around the sweater. When I speak, my voice is brittle, like glass on the edge of shattering.
“We had her right there in front of us last night, and I didn’t even ask if she was okay. I didn’t even—God, I didn’t *see* it.”
