The penthouse felt like a gilded cage. Elara lay curled on the oversized sectional, staring at the ceiling where soft recessed lights cast gentle patterns. She was glad—profoundly glad—she had never told her mother about the pregnancy. Her mom would have been calling nonstop, showing up with soups and questions and that suffocating concern that would only make everything worse. Elara wanted silence. She wanted the world to stay far away.
It had been weeks since the fall. Weeks since the bleeding stopped and the doctors delivered the quiet, clinical news that the baby’s heartbeat was gone. She hadn’t posted a single video. Her followers speculated wildly in comments she never read. Jade and Mia had called repeatedly—concerned texts, worried voice notes—but Elara let every one ring into voi
