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ESMERALDA'S POV I didn’t realize how much a single visit could unravel me until I was alone again. The moment my mother left, the air in the penthouse felt… different. Thinner. Heavier. Like something had been dragged through it and left behind—a memory I couldn’t shake off no matter how hard I tried. I didn’t stay in the living room. I couldn’t. The walls felt like they were listening, like they still carried her voice, her carefully measured tone, her false concern. So I excused myself, barely hearing the guards, barely noticing anything at all as I made my way back to my room. My room. Even that didn’t feel like mine right now. The door clicked shut behind me, and only then did I allow myself to breathe—slow, uneven, like I’d been holding it in since she walked through the fron
- Writer
