SERAPHINA’S POV
For several seconds after my last words, Celeste said nothing.
We stood in front of the mirror, just as before. Her wrists were still bound by the silver cuffs, and my hand still gripped her arm to keep her from turning away.
The quiet in the room thickened until even the faint rustling of the curtains felt loud.
In the mirror, our reflections stared back at us.
I expected anger. Defiance. Another cutting remark.
That had always been Celeste’s way. Even when cornered, she fought with her pride like a blade.
But something else happened instead.
Her expression cracked.
At first, the movement was so subtle I almost missed it. Then her breathing changed. Her chest rose unevenly, as if she were trying to hold something back—and failing.
A soft, strangled sound escaped her throat.
Then the tears came.
They arrived without warning, breaking through whatever fragile restraint she had been clinging to.
