The shattered wine glass still lay on the stone tiles, its crimson contents drying like spilled blood in the afternoon sun. The other girls had scattered not long after Fiona and Nanny Nia's dramatic departure, their laughter swallowed by a stunned silence. Now only Anna remained, standing amid the wreckage like a toppled queen.
She didn't move. Couldn't.
Erik is in love with me.
The words echoed relentlessly, stabbing through the walls of arrogance she'd built around her pride. Her fingers trembled as she clenched the edge of the table for support. No one had ever spoken to her like that before—not Fiona, not anyone. And certainly not in front of others.
Lisa had tried to speak to her before leaving, offering a half-hearted, "Are you okay?" but Anna had waved her off with a stiff shake of her head.
Now, alone with the wreckage of her illusion, Anna felt it—the cracks in her armor. The vulnerability she had refused to acknowledge.
