Chapter 4 — The Cracks in the Foundation

Amelia Hart

The guest room smelled faintly of lavender, a remnant of an old reed diffuser Amelia had placed there months ago, back when the room was reserved for visiting family or friends. It had always been a pristine, impersonal space—a sanctuary of order and calm. Now, it felt like an exile, the bed too stiff, the walls too close. She stared at the ceiling, her chest tight with the weight of everything she couldn’t seem to unpack.