Lost in the echo of her own voice, Celina sank deeper into the emptiness of her mind. Sadness—an old, unwelcome companion—had returned to lie beside her in bed. It felt familiar, almost comfortable. She cried for a long time, not caring about the damp pillow or the creeping chill of the early dawn.

When her tears finally began to dry and the sobs faded into silence, she rose slowly. Moving on instinct alone, she slipped into a light nightgown, walked to the wardrobe, and searched for fresh bedding. She stripped the bed, replacing the sheets and pillowcases as if erasing what had happened there only moments before.

When she finished, she stood still for a few seconds, staring at the bed. It looked so clean… so cold.

With a sudden impulse, she walked to the bedroom door and gripped the doorknob. She stayed there, heart racing, imagining what Thor’s reaction might be if he saw her. But courage slipped through her fingers. Fear flooded in—the fear of being rejected, of being nothing more