Megra
It's been a few days since the fire, since Becca's death. I should feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but instead, there's a different heaviness inside me. I can't quite name it—grief, guilt, relief, maybe all of them tangled together. I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. Mia is perched on the vanity, watching me with her bright eyes. I meet her gaze in the mirror, offering a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
I pick up a small powder puff and begin to dab it gently against my cheeks. The cool, smooth texture of the powder calms me slightly, a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Nathaniel is home now, his health restored, his body healing. I’m grateful for that. The newspapers have been full of stories about his heroics, praising him for his bravery. The police cleared his name after searching Becca’s apartment. They found her journals, her twisted plans. It’s all out in the open now.
