– Clara’s POV

Sunday Evening

My room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made you listen to your heartbeat.

I stood before the full-length mirror, brushing invisible lint from the hem of my dress a sleek, off-shoulder navy number that kissed my skin like memory.

I was dressed for the dinner, standing in my room.

There was a knock at the door.

Not a soft one. Purposeful. Controlled.

The kind that said, “Your ride is here.”

It was 8:00 p.m.

I exhaled ...