73
Pecan's pov
The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting delicate patterns on the wooden floor of my room. I hadn't slept much, tossing and turning all night. The events of the previous evening replayed in my mind like a broken record,Stella's attack, Paul saving me, and the unanswered questions swirling like a storm cloud. My ankle still throbbed faintly, but the physical ache was the least of my worries.
The smell of breakfast wafted up the staircase, pulling me from my thoughts. They're already at the table, I thought. I pulled on a cardigan over my simple dress and padded quietly down the stairs. My steps were hesitant, my heart beating a little too fast for reasons I couldn't quite explain.
When I entered the dining room, the chatter immediately subsided. Everyone turned to look at me. Paul's absence was glaring, though no one said anything yet. I swallowed, forcing a small smile as I greeted them.
