Chapter 32

I slowly walked downstairs, each step dragging like my legs were made of stone. The staircase felt endless, as though the weight pressing down on my chest made gravity heavier than usual. My hand clutched the railing, fingers trembling as they slid down the cold metal. It grounded me just enough to keep moving, but even that touch carried no warmth.

Benjamin’s father had left hours ago, but his shadow still lingered in the house like a stain that wouldn’t wash out. The food I had brought earlier sat untouched on the dining table. No one had the appetite. No one even looked at it again. The air itself seemed hollow, stripped of taste, stripped of comfort. My stomach twisted, but not with hunger—just an ache of unease that refused to settle.

My mind was clouded, thoughts circling like vultures. I couldn’t form a clear line, couldn’t hold on to anything solid. Every possibility clawed at me at once, filling me with dread so sharp I could barely breathe.

When I reached