Fear

 Amira's POV

I wasn't sure how long I had been sitting in the same spot. Minutes? Hours? Maybe even a full day. Time felt irrelevant. All I knew was the cold, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest, the gnawing guilt eating away at my insides.

The walls of my room felt smaller than before, closing in with every breath I took. The soft glow of the evening sun filtered in through the curtains, but it felt like I was trapped in darkness.

Locked in.

I hadn't fought back when my parents shut me in here. I hadn't yelled or argued or pleaded for them to let me out.

Because I deserved this.

I deserved to be punished.

I had destroyed everything—hurt someone I was supposed to care about.

Marian.

Her name alone sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through me. The memory of her face, her expression when she realized what I had done, played on repeat in my head like a cruel, endless loop. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.