Mara lay curled on the floor where she had fallen, the room dark now except for the soft, flickering glow of her bedside lamp. Her fingers were still wrapped tightly around Rafae's ring box, stained with his blood, pressed against her chest like it could somehow bring him back.
No one dared to knock. Her brothers waited outside her door in turns—silent sentries, unsure if their presence would help or shatter her further.
Inside, Mara was drowning.
She had cried until there were no tears left. Now her body only shook with quiet, shallow breaths. Her lips trembled, her skin cold, her heart hollow.
She didn't know what hurt more—knowing Rafael was gone, or knowing he died thinking about her. Planning the future. Carrying a ring.
That ring…
She opened the box again with trembling hands.
It was beautiful. Simple. Elegant. Everything she never dared to hope someone would choose for her. And he had chosen it. He had chosen her.
He was going to propose.
And now he never would.
