Hearing Her Heart Drove Him Mad
“Sofia… is there really no going back?”
“No,” I said softly but firmly.
“And there never will be.”
I walked past him, sunlight warm on my face, refusing to look back.
That weekend, I slept in and was getting ready to go out, when someone showed up at my door.
Elena Rossi.
She looked like a ghost of her former self—frail, unwashed, bruised in places I didn’t want to question.
She sneered, her voice sharp and resentful:
“Sofia Colombo, you’re not prettier than me.