The door shut behind Winter with a force that echoed through the small space, rattling the wooden walls. Then—silence.
Zara stood frozen in the middle of the room, her breath coming too fast, too shallow. Her arms wrapped around herself, nails digging into her skin as if that would hold her together. She had known he would be angry, known he'd feel something—but she hadn't expected this. The way his jaw had tightened, the sharp breath he took before turning his back to her, the rigid way he walked out without looking back.
Her throat burned. She took one step forward, then stopped. What would she even do? Run after him? Beg him to listen, to understand? He wouldn't. Not now.
A ragged sound broke from her lips, part sigh, part sob.
She pressed a hand to her mouth, stumbling back until she hit the edge of the bed. Her legs folded beneath her, and she sank onto the mattress, staring blankly at the door like maybe—just maybe—he'd change his mind and come back.
He didn't.
