Camilla's POV
The hallway stretched ahead of me, a clinical expanse of polished white floors and pale walls that seemed to absorb the light, leaving only a sterile glow. My footsteps echoed in the profound silence—a lonely, rhythmic sound that seemed to mock the chaos still screaming inside my head.
I replayed his words. However long. The way he'd said it, with a weight that felt like a promise, yet carried the chill of a final farewell.
I didn't understand. But I was too tired, my mind a frayed wire, sparking with half-formed thoughts and unresolved fears.
Behind me—footsteps.
Distinct. Measured. Unhurried.
I turned, my heart giving a painful lurch.
Henry.
He was walking toward me, his silhouette cutting a clean, dark line against the brightness. That familiar, unreadable look was on his face, the one I had seen in fleeting moments but had never dared to name.
