Morning arrived with its usual, unfeeling predictability.
The pale rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long, cool shadows across the room. Outside, the city was already roaring to life—car horns blared in the distance, footsteps hurried along damp pavement, and the endless pulse of metropolis routine ground onward. Yet, inside Sarah McKaley's heart, time seemed to move at a strangely sluggish pace.
It had been nearly two months since the grueling trial that had ultimately acquitted Keith Vanderbilt. Two whole months of lingering whispers, restless nights, and an uncomfortable, suffocating stillness. For Sarah, the court's verdict had not brought the sweeping sense of relief she had naively hoped for. Victory in a courtroom did not instantly erase the emotional wreckage left in its wake. The world expected her to breathe easy, to move on, to celebrate her freedom, but trauma was a stubborn guest; it refused to leave just because a judge had rapped his gavel.
