The night had weight.
Not darkness—
Weight.
As though the walls themselves understood departure had been decided and were already adjusting to her absence.
Elara sat on the edge of the bed without removing her shoes, because sleep felt dishonest now. Because closing her eyes felt like pretending tomorrow would be negotiable. Because dawn had already been scheduled without asking what she wanted to leave behind.
Uff.
The bond had gone distant again.
Not gone.
Never gone.
Just—
Muted.
Like someone speaking through a door they refused to open.
Her gaze drifted toward the window where reinforced glass reflected the pale lamplight back at her in fractured pieces. The same glass she had leaned against that first night—
Confused.
Cold.
Ridiculous enough to believe safety came with walls.
That night had smelled like rain and unfamiliar wood polish.
Marco had spoken too carefully.
Serena had smiled too sweetly.
And Alessandro—
