50. Shadows and sunlight

The coastal breeze drifted through gauzy linen curtains, curling softly around the room like a whisper. The estate was still—too still.

Elena stirred first, blinking into the filtered light, her hand instinctively reaching across the bed.

Empty.

Cassian was gone.

She sat up slowly, letting the silk sheet fall from her shoulder. Her heart was still a battlefield—tender from what was said the night before, raw from what hadn't been. They had kissed like two people daring to forget, held each other like they wouldn't get another chance. But even now, distance clung to him like a second skin.

She rose, wrapping the sheet around her like armor and padded barefoot toward the open balcony.

Below, the sea churned against the cliffs, a thousand white-capped waves colliding and retreating.

And there he was.