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Not hope.

Not yet.

But something stronger than what we had before.

Direction.

My hand presses into my thigh again, the tension sitting there, controlled this time, contained instead of spilling over.

Please let us not be too late.

twenty-three

Liana

When I wake this time, the light is different.

Not dim. Not shadowed.

Bright.

Too bright.

For a second, it doesn’t make sense, my eyes struggling to adjust as I blink slowly, trying to bring the room into focus. The walls flicker with something soft and golden, the air warmer than it should be, carrying a faint scent that doesn’t belong here.

Flowers.

Candles.

Dozens of them.

They’re everywhere.

Lining the small space, set up across surfaces that were empty before, their light casting a soft glow over everything that makes it feel wrong in a way I can’t fully place at first.

It looks...beautiful.

That’s what makes it worse.

“What… are you doing?”

My voice comes out rough, slower than I expect, my head still heavy as I push myself up slightly on the bed. The movement takes more effort than it should, my body lagging behind the intention.

He’s already there.

Standing a few steps away, watching me like he’s been waiting for this moment.

“I told you,” he says gently, like this is something we’ve already agreed on. “Tonight is special.”

His hand lifts slightly, and that’s when I see it.

The dress.

It’s draped over his arm, soft fabric, pale, something that would be beautiful anywhere else, something that would have meant something different if it wasn’t here, if it wasn’t in his hands.

My stomach turns.

“I don’t understand,” I say, even though something in me already does.