Zara’s POV
The morning light spilled through my dorm window, filtering in like smoke. It painted thin stripes across the sheets, across my arm, across the ache that still lived in my bones. The kind of light that should’ve meant a fresh start, a new day. But nothing about me felt new. I didn’t feel rested. I didn’t even feel alive the way the others did when they greeted the sun like it was a blessing.
I felt heavy. My body ached from last night’s ritual. But it wasn’t just my body—it was my head. My chest. My mind burned more than anything.
Because the words I’d said last night wouldn’t stop replaying.
I hadn’t known that for sure. That was the part that surprised me. It wasn't a fact. It wasn’t something I’d read in some locked-away file or overheard in one of their careless conversa
