Morning did not bring peace, for the pale light that filtered through the tall glass windows of the university hallway carried a cold clarity that made every hidden bruise more real, and Elara walked slowly between rows of lockers with her posture composed yet slightly rigid as though each step required careful control she refused to show.
Students moved around her in soft clusters of laughter and idle conversation, their voices light and untroubled while the ordinary world continued without awareness of the night that had nearly broken her, and she kept her gaze forward despite the faint sting beneath her ribs reminding her with every breath that something inside her had not yet healed.
The sleeve of her sweater slipped slightly as she adjusted the strap of her bag, revealing for the briefest moment the darkened bruising along her wrist where the mark pulsed faintly beneath the surface, and before she could pull the fabric back into place—
Olivia saw it.
