Mist's POV
The silence between us lingers, an eternity stretching as I clutch the pendant—a cold, hard reminder of a past I can't grasp. The warmth Charles left on it has long dissipated, leaving only its icy edges digging into my palm. The echo of Alex’s slammed door still vibrates in the air, leaving a suffocating heaviness in its wake.
I grip the pendant fiercely, my knuckles bleaching white with strain. The last embers of anger still flicker within, but they’re overshadowed by a profound exhaustion and an overwhelming confusion. Alex’s hateful eyes haunt me, his accusation—“She wants to replace mom!” stings.
I never wanted to replace anyone. I just craved a sliver of warmth, a glimpse of who I truly am.
“I’m sorry.”
Charles’s voice, rough and laden with weariness, shatters the opp
