Start over.

Lucian steps further inside, his movements steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

His heartbeat is erratic, though his face remains unreadable.

The weight of his decision, this carefully laid-out act presses on him, but he doesn't let it show. His body carries him forward on instinct, his mind refusing to hesitate.

Anna stands near the mirror, fingers delicately tracing her cheek, as if she's examining herself, trying to confirm her own presence.

Her reflection stares back at her, unreadable, her features caught somewhere between thoughtfulness and a quiet sort of melancholy.

The moment she hears the door open, she turns. Their eyes meet, locking for a brief moment that stretches far too long.

Lucian fights the urge to turn around and walk out. Every part of him screams that this isn't where he wants to be, that this is all wrong.