A century ago
The wind howled outside, clawing at the walls like a restless beast.
He stood near the window, his gaze fixed on the darkened sky.
The storm mirrored the turmoil brewing inside him.
His chest tightened as footsteps sounded behind him.
Soft, hesitant steps that belonged to only one person.
"You're late," he said without turning.
His voice was low, strained.
“I wasn’t sure if I should come,” Antara whispered.
At the sound of her voice, he finally faced her.
Her golden hair spilled over her shoulders.
Her blue eyes, once so warm, barely met his.
“You shouldn’t have come at all,” he said bitterly.
“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of her gown.
“I haven’t.”
It felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs
