Elizabeth sat across from Cassandra, the distance between them thick with hostility that could be felt even without words. The air itself seemed tense, stretched tight like a wire ready to snap. Most of that tension came from Elizabeth. She could not stop herself from glaring at the other woman, her eyes sharp, resentful, and burning with barely restrained fury. Cassandra, however, sat in complete composure, unbothered and infuriatingly calm, her posture relaxed as though Elizabeth's presence was insignificant.
Elizabeth hated that calm.
Her life was unraveling, thread by thread.
