The Unspoken Boundaries
The lights in the bakery had been dimmed, leaving long, quiet shadows stretching across countertops dusted with flour. The storm outside should have commanded her attention—the violent c***k of thunder, the rattle of rain pelting the windows, the faint tremble of glass under nature’s fury. But Emilia heard none of it. All that existed now was the letter trembling between her fingertips.
Your life was in danger.
The first line hit her like a blow. Her lungs caught on nothing, trapping the breath in her chest. The words stared back at her, stark and merciless, as if they had been waiting to detonate the moment she touched them. She blinked hard, but the sentence kept rearranging, blurring, sharpening, tearing itself apart only to reform again.
I didn’t tell you.
