Mira didn't understand why her chest felt so tight, or what exactly had gone so terribly wrong, but one thing settled deep in her bones with frightening certainty.
Something irreversible was happening.
And once it happened, nothing would ever return to the way it was.
She rushed into the Serrano estate, the familiar iron gates closing behind her with a sound that felt final, almost like a verdict being passed. The grand hall she had grown up in, once warm and secure, now felt suffocatingly cold.
The air was tense. Heavy. Unforgiving.
Her gaze moved instinctively to her family.
Livia sat stiffly on the couch beside their mother, fingers nervously twisting the fabric of her sleeve. Her usual playful spark was gone, replaced with worry etched into her eyes. Their mother sat upright, lips pressed into a thin line, her posture rigid, as if she was bracing herself for a blow she already knew was coming.
And then there was her father.
