Eira's pov
I used to be soft once,loving, trusting, even forgiving. But grief has a way of boiling your blood until it hardens into something colder than stone. The silence in this new mansion didn't comfort me anymore; it echoed everything I had lost. And no matter how many walls I built inside myself, Draven's presence still gnawed at the cracks.
I didn't cry anymore. Tears were a luxury, and I'd long since spent mine. Now, I wore silence like armor and cruelty like lipstick. I kept my face unreadable, my voice curt. If Draven lingered in the hallway when I passed, I walked right through him as if he were air. And Kira? I didn't speak her name. I didn't need to. She knew.
The mornings were the worst. Waking up in that bed,alone,was a cruel reminder of what was supposed to be. Some nights, I'd wake with a hand on my belly before I remembered… there was nothing left. Just silence. Just pain. Just me.
"Eira?"