ONE WEEK LATER

The garden was quiet in that heavy way that only came before something big. No music. No laughter. Just the faint hum of lights from the mansion and the sound of Aria’s thoughts arguing with her heart.

She sat on the stone bench, arms wrapped around herself.

“I brought this on myself,” she whispered.

“I should have stayed calm. I should have waited. I should have been patient.”

Her lips trembled.

“A mistress suddenly becomes the real wife,” she scoffed softly. “What kind of joke is that?”

She leaned her head back, staring at the sky.

“I just pray I don’t die the second time,” she murmured....