The air tasted different now.
Not sweeter.
Not cleaner.
Just… different.
Like the world had exhaled, but Sonia hadn’t caught up to the breath.
She walked the garden path in slow, steady steps, gravel crunching under her shoes. There were no voices echoing through the halls. No threats under doorways. Just the soft rustle of trees, and the way moonlight dappled against the ivy-wrapped stone.
She should have felt victorious.
Instead, she felt like she was waiting for someone to tug the rug from beneath her again.
It didn’t help that she kept catching glimpses of her own reflection in dark windows—short hair, sharp shoulders, the ghost of a boy who never quite fit his skin. But now, even in her own face, she wasn’t sure who she was looking at.
Not Silas.
Not just Sonia either.
M
