Eliana's pulse thundered in her ears, wild and uneven, as if her very heartbeat were trying to escape her chest. The phone felt heavy in her trembling hand, its cold edges digging into her skin, grounding her in the moment she desperately wished to avoid. The screen's glow painted her face in pale light, catching the reflection in her wide brown eyes—eyes that burned with the uneasy marriage of fear and stubborn resolve.
The apartment suddenly felt too small, its walls closing in with every breath she dragged into her lungs. Even the comforting trace of Henry's morning coffee still clinging to the air now seemed suffocating, sharp, a reminder of the fragile normalcy that had slipped through her fingers.
