Katrina~
For two agonizing months after Vincent vanished, I lived with a gaping void in my chest, right where our mate bond used to pulse like a second heartbeat. It wasn't just an emotional ache—it was physical, a relentless, gnawing pain that clawed at my ribs from the inside, as if some invisible beast had sunk its talons into my soul and refused to let go. Every breath felt labored, every step heavy, like I was dragging chains forged from shattered dreams. The bond hadn't just faded; it had been severed, leaving raw, frayed edges that burned with phantom echoes of his touch, his voice, his shadowed gaze that used to make my world tilt on its axis. I'd wake up in the dead of night, gasping, my hands clutching at my chest as if I could stitch the wound closed with sheer willpower. But nothing filled it. Food tasted like ash, laughter sounded hollow, and even the sun's warmth on my skin felt like a cruel mockery of the light I was supposed to wield as my mother's daughter.
