Anyta
The nights in the Ashbourne mansion were too quiet. The tall walls, the gleaming chandeliers, the polished floors—there was nothing to complain about, but to me, it was like being in prison. Even when I lay on the pillow with my head, sleep seemed to be far from me.
I couldn't help but remember Grandma Jo's soft voice the day she talked to me. She had told me not to let pain consume me. She told me I was still worthy, that I was still strong. And for a while, those words comforted me. They strengthened me.
But courage was different from peace.
The mansion was grand, I suppose, but it was also toxic.
Every corner was filled with memories of betrayal, of tears, of the years lost to me. Everett's presence surrounded me everywhere—even when he was not present.
In the mornings, I wo
