The walls of Lucas’s home felt different that night. Too quiet. Too still.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my mind a swirling mess of images—Freya’s face, the shock in her eyes, the way her voice trembled when she confessed the truth. I couldn’t erase it. My chest was tight, my palms clammy. I didn’t know whether to feel betrayed, relieved, or just… lost.

The faint hum of the city beyond the thick curtains was the only sound until the door creaked open.

Lucas stepped in, his ...