Chapter 122
Solid Ground
The morning felt different.
The house was quiet, but not gently so. It was the kind of silence that rang in the ears, heavy and unsettled, as if something loud had happened and the sound had not yet finished echoing. Last night I still clung to everything; the walls, the curtains, the polished floors. Even the air felt changed.
I lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling.
My wrist felt bare. My chest felt light in the wrong way.
I could not spend the month before my marriage without doing anything. The future pressed too heavily and suffocated. I needed something solid.
The idea, when it came, was almost embarrassingly simple.
It felt like air.
I dressed with deliberate plainness: a wool skirt, a high-necked blouse, a scarf, a fitted blazer. No ornament. No softness meant to invite comment. I wanted to look like a woman with a destination, not a bride curated for display. I needed to feel like myself, not a symbol.
