POV: Clara

Cold sheets tangled at my thighs and the taste of salt swam on my tongue. My pillowcase was wet from tears. My throat was raw with all the whispers I couldn’t unsay.

God help me—I think he’s right.

It hit before I opened my eyes and the tether thrummed in my chest, sharp and painful. I clapped both hands on my stomach, tried to will it to stop. Tried to pretend it was just mine and only mine.

I dragged myself up, feet heavy on the floor. My joints ...