Isla
The elevator doors closed with a soft whoosh, sealing me inside the sleek metal box with Tristan. My reflection stared back at me from the mirrored walls, pale, dishevelled, with dark circles under my eyes and that angry red mark visible on my neck. Beside me, Tristan stood tall and imposing, not a hair out of place despite everything that had happened. The contrast between us couldn't have been more stark.
I shifted uncomfortably as the elevator began its ascent, the smooth glide so different from the creaky stairs of our farmhouse back home.
Home. The word sent a fresh wave of pain through my chest. Would I ever see it again?
"We're almost there," Tristan said, his deep voice breaking the silence, probably in an attempt to break the tension. I didn't respond, keeping my eyes fix
