Chapter 17

When Asa left work, she went straight to Anastasia's house. Sitting in her living room, Anastasia's eyes held an intensity that seemed to pierce through Asa's defenses. "Asa," she started, her voice low yet laced with a concern that couldn't be masked, "You've been awfully silent?"

Asa sat still, her gaze fixed on an indistinct spot on the floor. Her voice, when it finally came, was as fragile as a gossamer thread, barely audible. "Anastasia, there's... there's nothing to say."

Anastasia, however, wasn't easily placated. She studied her friend closely, noting the telltale signs of a storm brewing beneath the surface - the slight quiver of her lip, the trembling hands clenched in her lap. With a sudden rush of determination, Anastasia closed the gap between them, taking a seat next to Asa. She knew her friend was struggling, and she was determined to be the pillar of support Asa needed.

"Asa, talk to me," Anastasia urged, her voice tender, a stark contrast to the firm grip she had on