Rosé,
At first, I assumed it was a frantic joke. Diana wasn’t usually mischievous, but a part of me wanted to believe she was playing a cruel prank. She had to be.
But then, a sob rumbled in her throat and spilled through the phone, raw and heart-wrenching. My breath hitched. Diana wasn’t the kind of child who would joke about something like this. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—fake such anguish.
My hands clenched around the phone as Draven’s words echoed in my mind, colliding with confusion and disbelief.
He wouldn't die. Not like this. Not now.
We were supposed to talk. Face to face. I had to complete the project without any distractions.
Yes, I hated him. Or at least, I told myself I did. But death? That was too extreme. He couldn't just die without explaining why he did that to us. W
