Chapter 124 The Weight If Rain

• The morning after the storm was slow to wake. The sky still held a dull silver sheen, as if the night itself refused to let go. Mist clung to the streets, soft and gray, blurring the sharp edges of the world. Zara sat on the edge of her bed, her hair still damp from the shower, a blanket wrapped loosely around her shoulders. She hadn’t slept much.
• All night, thunder had walked through her dreams echoing like footsteps down a corridor she didn’t want to enter. Each time lightning flashed behind her eyelids, she saw something like a coat, a car door, a voice that felt like warmth against the rain.
• Her sketchbook lay open beside her, the pencil lines from last night now smudged across the page, a man’s face half-drawn, eyes shaded dark, mouth unfinished, as if her hands knew what her mind had forgotten. She stared at the sketch until the shape of him blurred.