Morpheus marched forward, his steps unhurried yet carrying the authority of someone who believed the world itself bent at his will. A faint smile lingered on his lips, too calm, too assured, the smile of a man who thought victory already his.
And seeing that smile, Arabella felt something break inside her, something that wasn't grief, nor anger, but a hollow ache of realization.
She remembered that once, the sight of his smile had made her chest tighten with warmth. Yet now… nothing. No flicker of joy, no tremor of love. Only emptiness.
It was almost laughable. For someone like her, who had always loved deeply, who found beauty even in pain, how could she feel nothing at all for the man she had once adored?
As expected.
Not only her memories had been tampered with but her heart had been too.
A quiet horror unfolded in her mind. If even my heart is no longer mine… what should I do to reclaim it?
