Dahlia
Sitting alone in my room, I could barely keep my hands from trembling. The curtains were drawn, casting a soft, gray light over everything. It felt like a reflection of my mind—muted, cloudy, and dim. I hadn’t been able to think clearly since I returned. It was like the world had tilted, and I was struggling to find my balance.
I stared at the ceiling, trying to drown out the constant pull I felt in my chest, that unbearable tug of the mate bond that hadn’t left me since Nikolai let me go. How could something so powerful exist when he was no longer near? I felt like I was losing my grip on reality, the bond refusing to let me move forward, like a chain around my heart, pulling me toward someone I shouldn’t want.
Someone I should hate.
I should hate him. I do hate him, I reminded
