Cassidy
The estate felt quieter than it had in days. Not peaceful—just… drained. Like even the walls had been holding their breath through that storm.
And now they were exhaling.
I sat curled up on the couch in my mother's room, still in my second dress. The hem was wrinkled from where I'd been kneeling in the grass, and my hair had come undone from its elegant pins. But none of it mattered.
She held me, arms around my shoulders, my head resting on her chest like I was a little girl again. Her heartbeat was steady beneath my ear. Real. Warm. Alive.
We didn't talk.
We didn't need to.
The silence was safer than anything else right now.
"I was so afraid he'd take you away from me," she whispered finally, fingers brushing through my hair. "That one day he'd see you and claim you."
"I'm not his," I said, my voice hoarse. "Not now. Not ever."
She kissed my forehead.
That was the moment I almost cried again—but I didn't. I couldn't.
She held me tighter. I let her.
