Once the lawyers had retreated, the doors closed behind them with a soft, final click. And then Silence. Not the peaceful kind. Not the kind that soothes. This one vibrated.
It stretched across the grand parlor, thin and fragile, like something that could shatter at the slightest touch. The lilies still lingered, their sweetness now almost rotten, and the absence of voices only made everything louder the ticking clock, the faint rustle of fabric, the uneven rhythm of Amara's breathing.
She hadn't moved. It was as if leaving that spot meant accepting something she wasn't ready to face. Amira stepped forward.
Slowly. Carefully.
Her red hair caught the dim light as she moved, a quiet flame in the otherwise muted room. Her expression was composed, somber, fitting, but behind her eyes… There was something else.
Something sharper. Something that did not belong to grief. Her fingers closed gently around Amara's hand.
