Adriana sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly out the window at the overcast sky of that late afternoon. A gentle breeze drifted in, swaying the ivory curtains and adding to the somber mood of the room. Her chest felt heavy, as though something was lodged deep inside, unmoving. Since that morning—since Kesha had returned wounded and cloaked in mystery—that uneasy feeling had refused to leave her.
She didn’t know why, but Kesha’s presence brought a tension that was difficult to explain. It wasn’t jealousy—at least, she wanted to convince herself it wasn’t. It was something deeper, something sharper. As if her instincts were trying to warn her that something was very, very wrong.
She stood up from the bed and began pacing the room. She had already tried distracting herself several ti
