Eliana slumped against the cool leather of Henry's SUV, her body caving inward like a fragile shell barely holding back the chaos ripping through her. Outside, the city blurred past in sharp streaks of motion—sunlight bouncing off glass buildings, midday traffic honking and weaving, shopfronts flashing with bold signs she couldn't focus on. To her, it all looked smeared together, like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. But it wasn't the world that wavered. It was her own tears, hot and unyielding, spilling until they warped everything in sight.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven bursts, every breath snagging on the weight inside her. The brightness of the afternoon pressed cruelly against her pain—the sun too bold, too alive for the hollow wreck she felt herself becoming.
