Catherine’s POV
Morning didn’t come with birdsong. It came with silence.
The kind of silence that settled in your chest like frost, where even your own breath sounded too loud.
I hadn’t slept. My body begged for rest, but my thoughts refused to close their eyes. They spun and spun, chasing ghosts of promises, chasing shadows of men who never came.
Lucian.
His name was a wound on my tongue, bitter and empty. I had whispered it for three nights, convinced he would hear me somehow. Convinced he would come. Convinced he would be the one to fight for me.
But he hadn’t.
The third day had ended, and so had my illusions.
Lucian wasn’t coming. Not for me. Not ever.
The realization didn’t hit like thunder—it seeped in slowly, like poison, tainting every memory I had of him. His smiles. His
