His touch her undoing
For the remainder of the morning, Emilia stayed in her room with the door locked, the curtains partially closed, and her heart racing. She attempted to distract herself with anything, including pacing, which made her anxiety worse, a book she couldn't concentrate on, and a shower that didn't calm her. Every sound seemed to be exaggerated. Her spine tensed with each sound along the corridor. Every whisper, whether it was genuine or imagined, felt like a breath-wearing danger. The tightness inside her chest had become intolerable by late afternoon. She had to breathe. Space. Anything save the oppressive burden of wondering who in this house was keeping an eye on her or alerting her. With caution, she entered the hallway.Standing at the far end, Nora conversed
