Kelvin’s POV
The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silver bars across my room, but I couldn’t sleep.
I sat on the edge of my bed, my shoulders tense, my heart pounding.
In my hands, I held a fading photo of Diana. Her laughter was frozen in that one perfect moment, now blurred by confusion.
The same soft jawline. The same starlit eyes. The same soul-deep calm that used to quiet my storms. But something was missing, her scent of plums and roses. That comforting trace of her... was absent.
She isn’t a memory anymore.
The questions swirled relentlessly in my mind. Had Diana truly returned from the grave? Or was this some cruel trick of fate, someone who only looked like her?
I clenched my jaw.
If she were truly gone, the Moon wouldn’t dare bring her face back to tormen
