Chapter 88 Cracks In The Glass

The rain drummed against the windowpane as Mariana sat curled on the velvet chaise lounge in her dimly lit apartment. The city lights outside flickered like distant stars, but the storm inside her mind raged louder than the thunder rolling across the horizon. She gripped the delicate stem of her wine glass, her knuckles turning white as she tried to steady her breath. Camila, ever the pragmatist, perched on the armrest beside her, studying her with narrowed eyes. “You’re spiraling,” she said softly, but there was no mistaking the concern in her voice.