The rain had not stopped.
It fell like a living thing against the windows — insistent, relentless — as if trying to wash away what had just happened inside.
Serena sat motionless on the chair, her hands limp in her lap, her breath shallow.
The echo of Christopher's voice still clung to her, even though he was gone.
Her skin burned where his fingers had touched her; her mouth trembled where his had claimed it.
Every heartbeat sounded like a confession.
"Because you looked back."
Her throat closed around the memory.
She'd told herself it was pity that brought her to him — worry, guilt.
But now, every reason she'd built crumbled in the silence that followed his departure.
She'd let him in.
She'd let it happen.
And now, she didn't know how to face what she'd become.
Thunder rumbled far off, as if the world itself warned her what came next.
The door opened.
--
She flinched before she even turned.
"Serena?"
