Elsa’s pov
The night air felt heavy, as if the walls themselves remembered the whispers from earlier. Even after Lila left to rest in her new room, I couldn’t stop hearing them the quiet laughter, the sideways glances, the way some maids bowed too quickly and hurried away as if I were something shameful.
I sat on the edge of my bed, running my fingers along the silk blanket Dylan had ordered for me. It felt soft, but somehow I still felt small. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care what they thought that I was strong, that I’d survived worse but deep down, it still hurt.
Lila had tried to make me laugh before she left. She’d said, “Let them talk, Elsa. Their words can’t touch who you are.” I smiled then, but now the silence felt too loud.
That’s when I felt it.
A sharp pulse
