Seraphina's Point Of View
Lydia released a long, heavy sigh that seemed to drag up from the absolute bottom of her chest. She stared down at the dark mahogany table, her manicured fingers gripping her glass of Coke until her knuckles turned a sharp, ghostly white against the condensation. The ice clinked softly as her hand trembled, a sound that seemed amplified in the sudden quiet between us.
"I am so sorry, Seraphina," she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, trembling register.
The sound was so fragile I almost couldn't connect it to the woman who usually spent her days barking orders at the office staff. This wasn't the commanding, razor-sharp Lydia I'd known my entire life. This was someone else entirely… someone broken open and exposed.
