Chapter 48
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
The bedroom door had not opened in three days.
A soft retching sound echoed from behind it, followed by the hollow splash of water against porcelain. The walls, painted in gentle creams and dusty blues, absorbed the noise like an old wound. On the other side of the door, silence settled again, broken only by a faint, rhythmic whimper.
Adhira lay curled on the bathroom floor, her back pressed to the cold tiles, hair stuck to her face in limp, oily strands. Her nightshirt, creased and speckled with faint stains, clung to her thin frame. Her eyes, once soulful and bright, had grown dark, the whites shot through with red.
She didn’t move when the knock came, just a flicker of her lashes and a subtle tightening around her mouth. The tears that slid down her cheeks moved slowly, unbothered by the stillness of the face they traced.
“Adhira, please tell me you’re okay,” a voice said through the door.
A thud followed, soft but heavy. Elijah rested his head and both palms against the wood. His shoulders were tense, rising and falling in shallow waves. His jaw clenched and unclenched, lips parted as if to speak again, but no words followed. He stood that way for a long moment.
Inside, she made no reply. Her fingers found a loose thread at the hem of her sleeve, twisting it. A quiet sniffle escaped her, but she remained hunched on the floor, unmoving.
Elijah’s brow furrowed. He drew in a shaky breath. One hand left the door to wipe across his cheek. The hallway light caught the moisture on his face. His phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at it and hesitated.
Still no sound from the room.
He looked at the door once more, then turned away. His steps were slow, his back rigid as he walked down the hallway. As he rounded the corner, his hand rose again, dragging down his face.
The door behind him remained shut. Inside, the light flickered faintly above the bathroom mirror, casting a pulsing shadow across the young woman huddled beneath it.