Chapter 110 Fragments Of A Shattered Mirror

• The house was quiet that afternoon, too quiet for Zara’s restless mind. Sunlight pooled across the living room floor, warm and golden, but it felt distant like it was shining on someone else’s life, not hers. She sat curled in the armchair, a knitted throw draped over her shoulders, staring at the muted television screen.
• She didn’t recognize this version of herself.
• The Zara she remembered or thought she remembered was confident, sharp, a model whose face once graced magazines. That Zara had power in her stride, certainty in her smile. The girl sitting here now felt like a ghost, unsure of her own reflection.