Anabelle stood by the window, her hands trembling slightly as she watched the gray clouds drift across the sky. The air inside the room felt heavy.
She heard footsteps behind her but didn’t turn. She already knew it was Carson. His scent, his presence—it still stirred something deep inside her, something she wished she could erase.
“Anabelle,” he said softly. His voice was low, uncertain.
She didn’t answer. She kept looking outside, her reflection faint on the glass.
He took a slow step closer. “I know you don’t want to see me, but please… hear me out,” he said.
Anabelle drew in a quiet breath before turning around. Her face was calm, but her eyes carried a storm. “What is left for you to say, Carson?” she asked. Her tone was steady, controlled.
He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I
