Chapter 117 The Message

• The morning sunlight slipped through her curtains like quiet fingers, brushing her face awake. For the first time in weeks, Zara hadn’t dreamed or if she had, she couldn’t remember. There was just stillness.
• She sat up slowly, her head feeling lighter than it had in days. Her mother’s voice drifted faintly from the kitchen, the sound of spoons clinking against ceramic. The smell of tea and cinnamon filled the house. It should’ve been comforting, grounding. But even in that peace, her thoughts tangled around a single thread that refused to let go.
• Leo.