Elena’s POV
I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting on the edge of the guest bed. My hands were tangled in the fabric of my dress, twisting it over and over like it might come apart under my fingers. The door was still half closed from when I fled here, unable to breathe, the old photo burned into my mind.
I couldn’t hear Adrian and his father anymore. Just the echo of my pulse rushing in my ears. Everything felt suspended, like the entire apartment had been sucked into a vacuum.
Eventually, there was a gentle knock, then a slow creak as the door opened wider. Adrian didn’t say my name. He didn’t rush toward me. He just stepped inside and waited, his broad frame blocking the light from the hall.
When I finally lifted my head, our eyes met. I expected anger, maybe at me, maybe at the si
