CELINE’S POV
Evan’s house had become a sanctuary for me—a quiet place where the air didn’t taste like betrayal, where the walls didn’t press in on me with the weight of expectation. For the first time in my life, I felt safe outside of my own home, and the irony wasn’t lost on me.
When I stepped inside, the familiar scent of cinnamon and fresh bread greeted me, and my chest loosened in relief. Evan’s mother was waiting in the doorway with a smile that was warm, genuine, and completely disarming.
“Celine,” she said softly, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She reached out, pulling me into a gentle hug, and I froze at first, unsure how to respond.
But the memory of last night washed over me—the way she had cradled me while I writhed in agony, whispering soothing
