The room itself did not change when Daniel spoke. The chandelier still glowed softly overhead, silverware still clinked faintly against porcelain, and the faint scent of expensive perfume and polished wood still lingered in the air. Everything looked exactly the same as it had a second ago. And yet, something felt profoundly wrong.
Clara's ears rang faintly, like the world had been plunged underwater. Sound dulled. Air thickened in her lungs.
Laura.
Here in this house.
Standing beside Daniel as if she belonged there. "My fiancee," Daniel said calmly, almost casually, like he was announcing the weather instead of detonating a bomb in the middle of the room. For a split second, Clara genuinely wondered if she'd misheard him.
