Agnes
The night felt unusually still, the kind of quiet that made you feel like the world was holding its breath. I sat at my desk, staring at the letter before me. Its content was simple enough—an apology signed by Elijah—but the handwriting was unmistakably Thea’s.
A smile tugged at my lips as I recognized her childish scrawl, imagining her determined face as she crafted this little scheme to fix the tension between Elijah and me.
She was a child who saw everything in such simple terms, unaware of the complexities that tangled the lives of adults. For Thea, the solution was easy: write an apology, and everything would be better.
If only it were that simple.
I tucked the letter away, the warmth of her gesture still lingering, though it didn’t lessen the knot in my ches
