Sabrina
The knock on the door was gentle, almost hesitant—nothing like the man who used to stride into her life like he belonged in it.
But she knew.
She knew it was him.
She remained still for a long moment, her hand curled around the edge of her black dress. The scent of lilies still lingered from the funeral. The ache in her chest hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had settled deeper—heavier, crueler.
Another knock.
She rose.
She opened the door.
Brace stood there—unkempt, pale, and clutching something in his hands.
“Sabrina.”
His voice cracked.
She looked at him, eyes unreadable. She had imagined this moment a hundred times, a thousand. She had dreamt of him storming in, arms wide, apologies trembling on his lips.
But now that he was here, she felt... nothing but steel.
“What
