|Serena's POV|
The city hasn't changed. It never does. Still glass and fire and unreachable dreams. Still the kind of place that feeds on girls like me—born to gleam on the outside and hollow themselves out just to be seen.
But I changed.
Somewhere between Gryphon's fingertips and Beatrice's voice, I cracked. Quietly. Invisibly. Like the shatter of porcelain under velvet gloves. And now I sit in the eye of it, pretending to be whole.
The chair creaks as I lean back, pulling the cashmere wrap tighter around me. My coffee's cold. My thoughts are colder.
He kissed me like I was a choice.
Not a tactic. Not an investment. Not a performance.
A choice.
I should hate him for it. Should hate that he believed in something real when everything around me is a masquerade. I should pull away no
