enched space at the very top of the house, a loft with soaring ceilings and a large skylight, filled with the comforting, familiar scents of

place to recuperate," made it her own. Liam had insisted, saying t

truction. My canvases, large-scale works that I had poured months, even years of my life into, were desecrated. A nearly finished triptych depicting the changing seasons of our first year together was slashed

p at me, her eyes wide with a feigned, childlike innocence. "Oh, Elara," she breathed, a small, sad smile playing on her lips.

pace. It was a beautiful but treacherous piece of architecture, with a dizzying open space in its center. I was trying to salvage what I could, my hands trembl

fragile edge and taking on a sharper, crueler tone. "It's rea

ter of the spiral staircase. I lunged instinctively, my only thought to save that precious

my entire focus was on my mother's

pu

n, a silent scream trapped in my throat, as I tumbled backward, not down the winding stairs, but into the open, unforgiving space in the center of the spiral. The world became a dizzying blur of i