Chapter 17

#vote# My dear readers This chapter was written in the quiet space where fear lingers just before it speaks. An evening where nothing explodes, yet everything feels fragile. For Flora, fear is not loud — it is borrowed, worn like a second skin, stitched into the pauses, the glances, the thoughts she dares not finish. Thank you for reading slowly, for feeling deeply, and for walking with Flora through the quiet before the storm. Lady_B