THIRD POV
Helen had been pacing for what felt like hours, though she could not have said exactly how long had passed since the last shift in the atmosphere.
The guest house was too quiet.
Not peaceful, but heavy in a way that pressed against the walls and settled in her chest like something unresolved.
Her footsteps moved across the floor in an uneven rhythm, sometimes slow, sometimes sharp, as though her body was trying to match thoughts that refused to settle.
Her hands flexed repeatedly at her sides, fingers curling into her palms, releasing, then curling again. It was a nervous habit she rarely allowed herself to fall into, but tonight it came without permission. There was too much uncertainty to contain.
Roman was gone.
That realization had not come immediately.
At first, she
