Days moved on slowly. By now, everyone knew Kiara had her memory back in full. Word had spread through the family quickly, and to everyone's quiet surprise, she hadn't reacted the way they'd all half-expected. She spoke to the Romanos normally, without coldness, without the distance she still kept from Donato.

She'd found it in herself to forgive them, and the more she sat with everything, the more that forgiveness made sense to her. Their reaction, five years ago, had come from a place of raw, fresh grief--they'd believed they'd lost Enzo entirely, had buried him, mourned him properly, and then discovered, all at once, that the woman married into their family had apparently been connected to it somehow.

Learning about the stalking on top of that, learning she is the who is stalking Donato secretly for years before any of it came to light-- it had all landed on a grieving family at the worst possible moment, everything arriving in one devastating wave instead of in pieces they might have had time to process.

Kiara understood, now that she had her own memory of it, how a family in that state might react badly, might jump to conclusions they wouldn't have jumped to on a calmer day. So she'd let it go. Not because it hadn't hurt-- it had--but because she could see the shape of the wound that had caused it.

Donato was different. She couldn't explain, not even fully to herself, why forgiving him felt so much harder than forgiving the rest of them. Whenever she turned her mind toward their relationship--toward the years she'd loved him, quietly and completely, long before he'd ever looked back at her the same way--the same truth kept surfacing.

She had loved him like something close to devotion. And in return, when it mattered most, he hadn't listened to a single word she'd said. He hadn't stayed by her side when she needed him most.

She understood, intellectually, that he had been drowning in his own grief at the time too--that losing Enzo had gutted him just as badly as it had gutted everyone else, that grief made people behave in ways they wouldn't otherwise.

But understanding that didn't erase the deeper truth underneath it. He was her husband. Whatever grief he carried, he still should have stayed beside her. He shouldn't have left her alone in that library for days, shouldn't have handed her over to Rose's version of events without question.

Shouldn't have let her be taken to that hospital without ever once asking her, directly, what had actually happened. If he'd simply talked to her asked questions instead of going silent, pushed for her side instead of accepting everyone else's--she would have explained everything. She would have told him the truth.

But he never given her that chance. He let her be taken away instead, and that choice, more than anything else that had happened, was the one she couldn't fully move past.

It has been a week now since her memory returned. In that week, one thing had settled clearly in her mind--Donato didn't see her as simply his wife anymore. He loved her. Deeply, achingly, the exact mirror of how she used to love him before any of this began.

Used to.?

No--that wasn't right either. She still love him. Even now, even with everything sitting unresolved between them, she loved him without condition, the same way she always had, and she knew it, plainly, whether she wanted to admit it out loud or not.

And Donato knew it too, or at least suspected it, because every single day that week, he'd found some way to ask for her forgiveness. Small gestures at first--a quiet apology after breakfast, a moment alone in the garden where he'd try, carefully, to explain himself without excusing himself.

He was trying to prove something to her, trying to make her believe he wasn't doing any of this simply to hold the marriage together, or for Aria's sake, or for the sake of appearances in front of two families now watching them closely.

He needed her to understand it went deeper than that. He loved her, completely, and he couldn't imagine building the rest of his life without her in it. He would do anything to get her back humble himself in whatever way it took, even if he has to beg her he will do that, he will apologize as many times as it took, wait as long as it took.

He had already lost her once, for five years, believing the worst. He wasn't going to lose Kiara Romano again. Not now. Not after everything it had cost to find his way back to her.
_______

Donato had spent the better part of an hour setting up a small easel in the garden, complete with a canvas, paints, and an expression of deep artistic seriousness he'd never once displayed in his actual life.

Enzo, watching from a nearby chair with a glass of iced tea and zero intention of helping, was thoroughly enjoying himself.
"Explain to me," Enzo said, "what exactly we're doing here."

"We are not doing anything." Donato dabbed a brush into a blob of blue paint with far more concentration than the task required. "I am painting."

"You've never painted a single thing in your entire life."

"There's a first time for everything."

"Darling." Enzo leaned forward, grinning. "You are painting a very aggressive circle. Is that supposed to be the sun?"

"It's abstract."

"It's terrible."

"It's emotionally expressive abstract art," Donato said, wounded, adding another violent streak of yellow beside the blue circle for emphasis.

"And what emotion, exactly, is this expressing?"

"Longing," Donato said, entirely deadpan.

Enzo nearly choked on his tea. The plan, as far as Enzo understood it, was this: Kiara had mentioned it once, days ago, in passing, that she used to enjoy watching people paint some memory from her college years, an art class she'd audited just to relax.

Donato had latched onto that single fact with the desperation of a man clutching at driftwood, apparently deciding that if he set himself up in the garden with a canvas at the exact hour she usually walked past with her tea, some miracle of nostalgia would compel her to stop and talk to him.

"You do realize," Enzo said, watching him add a third, entirely unnecessary streak of red, "that this looks less like art and more like a crime scene."

"It's evocative."

"It's concerning."

Right on schedule, Kiara appeared at the far end of the garden path, cup of tea in hand, clearly on her way to her usual spot under the tree. Donato straightened instantly, plastering on an expression of intense creative focus, brush hovering dramatically over the canvas like he was mid-inspiration.

Kiara slowed as she approached, glancing at the canvas, then at him, then back at the canvas.

"What," she said slowly, "is that."

"Art," Donato said, not looking up, brush still hovering with theatrical purpose.

"It looks like the sun is bleeding."

"It's a metaphor."

"For what?"

"For-Donato faltered slightly, genuinely not having thought this far ahead. "For the human condition."

Enzo, still seated a few feet away, made a strangled sound into his tea that was very clearly a laugh he was failing to suppress.
Kiara looked at Enzo, then back at Donato, one eyebrow raised, something suspiciously close to amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth despite herself. "You've never painted anything in your life."

"I'm expanding my horizons."

"You hated the art museum in italy You told me it was, and I quote, 'a very expensive building full of squares.'"

"I've grown," Donato said solemnly, adding another entirely unnecessary blob of green to the canvas. Enzo lost the battle entirely and burst out laughing, nearly spilling his tea across the grass. "He's been out here for an hour, Kiara. An hour. Practicing his 'thoughtful painter' face in a hand mirror before you walked by."

"I did not use a mirror-

"He absolutely used a mirror."

Kiara looked between the two of them, and despite every ounce of resolve she'd been holding onto all week, a laugh slipped out before she could stop it--short, surprised, entirely genuine.

Donato's whole face lit up at the sound, brush forgotten entirely now, watching her like she'd just handed him something far more valuable than a single laugh warranted. "There it is," he said quietly, more to himself than to her.

Kiara caught herself, clearing her throat, trying to smooth the smile back into something more neutral. "Your circle looks like a tomato having a crisis."

"That's the human condition, sweetheart. We're all tomatoes having a crisis."

She shook her head, but the smile hadn't fully gone, and instead of walking straight past like she usually did, she lingered a moment longer, glancing at the canvas one more time before continuing on toward her spot under the tree--a small thing, barely anything at all, but the longest she'd stood near him all week without excusing herself first.

Enzo watched her go, then turned back to Donato, still grinning. "Darling. I think that actually worked."

Donato was still staring after her, a slow, helpless smile spreading across his face. "She laughed," he said, like he could hardly believe it himself.

"She laughed at your terrible painting."

"She laughed, Enzo."

Enzo just shook his head, smiling, and let his ridiculous best friend have the moment.
_______

It was evening at the Rajput haveli, the light softening across the courtyard, and Dhani Rajput sat in the open living room, a cup of tea cooling untouched beside her, watching Krish wheel his motorbike out through the gate.

She knew exactly where he was going. It wasn't new--hadn't been new since the day Sofia arrived. Krish had barely spent a full evening at home since. Some days he left in the afternoon and came back well after dark. Some nights he came back even later than that. Dhani knew, without needing to ask, that he was showing Sofia the entire city, one street at a time.

She didn't have a problem with it, not really. She knew the two of them loved each other, had loved each other for years, had survived heartbreak, silence, and five long years of distance to find their way back. If anything, watching him leave with that particular lightness in his step, the one that had been missing from him for so long, brought her a quiet kind of relief.

But the neighbors had opinions, and the neighbors were not shy about sharing them. She had gone to the market a few days ago with two of the women from down the lane, and there, standing near the vegetable stalls, she'd overheard exactly the kind of talk she'd feared she might.

One of the women, not even lowering her voice properly, had been going on about how Krish was constantly seen around the city with some girl on the back of his bike--unmarried, mind you, going around like that, what would people think.

Dhani had left the market without a word, but the conversation had stayed lodged in her chest the whole walk home, gnawing at her. I need to put a stop to this talk, she thought now, watching the dust settle behind Krish's bike as it disappeared down the road. Before it grows into something uglier.

She sat with the thought a moment longer, turning it over, and then nodded slowly to herself. "Yes. That's the right thing to do."

Riya happened to pass by just then, heading toward the stairs, and Dhani called out to her. "Riya, beta. Has everyone come back from the office yet?"

"No, Dadi Sa. Just Bade Papa and Papa are back. Arav bhai and Ayush bhai aren't home yet."

"Alright." Dhani nodded. "Listen-- once everyone's home, tell them all to gather in the lawn. And go let your Badi Maa, your Maa, and bhabhi Sa know too. Tell them Dadi Sa is calling everyone."

"Okay, Dadi Sa." Riya nodded and headed off.

About an hour later, the whole family had gathered on the lawn, teacups in hand, a spread of traditional snacks laid out on the low table between them.

"What's this about, Maa Sa? Why did you call all of us here?" Shivam asked.

"Is everything alright?" Meera added, glancing between her mother-in-law and the rest of the family.

"Everything's fine, Meera." Dhani set her tea down properly this time. "I wanted to talk to all of you about something."

"What is it, Dadi Sa?" Ayush asked.

"I think," Dhani said, "we should get Krish and Sofia engaged."

The whole lawn went quiet, everyone looking at her in surprise.
"Where's this coming from all of a sudden, Maa Sa?" Shivam asked.

"Shivam, people outside are talking. All kinds of things. About our children." Dhani's voice stayed level, but there was steel underneath it. "You all know how it's been since Sofia arrived Krish barely sits still at home anymore, he's out with her on that bike of his every single day, taking her around the whole city.

And people notice things like that. They talk. I don't like what I've been hearing, and frankly, I think it's time we settled things properly." She paused. "They're not children anymore, either of them. They're grown. And with the Romanos already here, in the country, this is exactly the right time to do this. We get them engaged now, and once both of them are ready, we get them married."

Meera sat with it for a moment, considering. "You're right, Maa Sa. Honestly, I've been thinking the same thing myself. They're both mature now, and anyone can see how much they love each other. Making it official would settle a lot of things--it would quiet down whatever people are saying, and it would make our children happy too." She glanced toward her husband. "What do you think, Shivam ji?"

"I agree with you, Meera." Shivam nodded slowly. "I'll speak with Mr. Romano, then. Let's see what the family thinks on their side."
Everyone around the lawn nodded in agreement, the earlier tension easing into something more settled--a decision made, a plan taking shape, the family already turning its attention toward what would come next.
________

Donato was fast asleep, deep in the kind of rest he hadn't gotten much of these past weeks, when the ring of his phone cut straight through it. He groaned, reaching a hand out from under the quilt, patting blindly at the nightstand until his fingers found it.
He pulled the quilt off his face and squinted at the screen. A number from Italy. An officer's name.

His brow furrowed. Why would he be calling, after all this time?
He picked up. "Hello."

"Mr. Romano." The officer's voice came through, formal, a little tense. "Good morning."

"Morning." Donato sat up slowly, rubbing at his eyes. "What's this about?"

"Sir. Rose escaped from jail."

Donato went completely still, all traces of sleep gone in an instant. "What? How? he said, sharper now, sitting fully upright. "I told you to make sure she never got out of that jail."

"I'm sorry, sir. I did everything within my power to keep her there. Honestly, going by her original case file, she should have been eligible for bail two years ago--the charge was only attempted harm, nothing more severe than that. But because of your request, I made sure that never happened. She stayed in, all this time, because of the arrangements I kept in place."

"Then how did she get out?" Donato's voice was clipped now, impatient.

"She escaped with help from a group of criminals being held in the same facility. From what we've pieced together, she told them she had connections to powerful people, claimed she was some kind of CEO on the outside, and promised she could help arrange their bail if they helped her get out.

They believed her. She was on her own in there, no real allies, so it made her an easy one for them to smuggle out in exchange for the promise."

"Ugh." Donato pressed a hand to his forehead. "Fine. Find her. Put her back where she belongs."

"I've been searching since yesterday, sir. That's actually how I found out she left the country. She flew out of Italy."

"And where did she fly to?" Donato asked, already dreading the answer.

"She booked a flight to India, sir."

Donato's eyes went wide. "India?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay." He was already swinging his legs out of bed. "I'll find her here myself, then." He ended the call and sat there for a second, phone still in hand, processing it.

"So you're coming here," he murmured to himself, "right behind all of us." A slow, humorless smirk crossed his face. "Fine. Come, then. But this time, you're not making it back to Italy."

A knock landed on the door before it swung open on its own, and Aria padded in, still in her nightclothes, hair a mess, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand.

"Daddy." She climbed straight up onto the bed without waiting for an invitation, crawling over to where Donato was still sitting with the phone loose in his hand, his expression still tight from the call.

He shook it off the second he saw her, forcing the tension out of his face and pulling her into his lap instead. "Morning, princess."

"Morning, Daddy." She yawned, leaning her head against his chest. "Aria came to wake you up."

"Thank you baby, did you now." He kissed the top of her head. "Where's your mama? Isn't she still sleeping?"

Aria shook her head. "Mama's already awake. She was chatting with aunt's in the hallway. Aria came to find you instead."

"Ah." He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "Well, since you're up, want to help me get ready today?"

Her whole face lit up. "Aria wants to brush her teeth with Daddy."

"Deal." He set her down and let her lead the way, small feet slapping against the floor toward the bathroom while he trailed behind, grateful for the distraction, the tightness in his chest from the phone call easing back into something manageable now that she'd filled the room with her usual chatter.

They stood side by side at the sink a minute later, two toothbrushes going at once, Aria watching her own reflection with intense concentration, occasionally glancing sideways to make sure she was matching her father's rhythm exactly.

"Daddy," she said around a mouthful of foam, entirely unbothered by the impracticality of talking mid-brush, "why do grown-ups brush so fast? Aria's teacher said you're supposed to count to twenty."

Donato spit, rinsed, and raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror. "Are you counting to twenty right now?"

Aria paused. "...Aria was going to."

"Uh-huh."

She huffed, unbothered, and went back to it with exaggerated focus, brushing so hard her whole arm shook, clearly trying to prove a point that no one had actually challenged.

Once they'd both finished--Aria insisting on inspecting her own teeth in the mirror afterward with the seriousness of a dentist Donato helped her change into a fresh outfit, wrestling gently with a stubborn button at the back while she narrated an elaborate story about a dream involving Elian, Elora, a dog, and what sounded like a small submarine.

By the time they were both ready, Donato scooped her up onto his hip, and the two of them made their way downstairs together, her still mid-story, utterly unaware that somewhere out there, a threat from five years ago had just landed back on Indian soil, and that the peace of this particular morning was likely borrowed time.
_______

The day passed peacefully, as planned. The Rajputs had already spoken with the Romanos, and the Romanos had agreed readily to Sofia and Krish engament. So, with that settled, the women decided to make a day of it and go shopping --Kiara, Elana, Sofia, Kavya, and Riya, all dressed and ready, piling toward the cars parked out front.

Just as they were about to climb in, a loud horn blared from behind them. Everyone turned at once, and a collective gasp went up.

There, pulling into the driveway, sat a brand new Thar--the exact car Kiara had been quietly obsessing over since the day she'd first spotted one on the road, mentioning it more than once without ever expecting anyone to actually take note.

And behind the wheel sat Donato. Kiara stood frozen, completely lost in the sight of it, so absorbed she didn't even notice him get out and walk straight toward her. The other women stood off to the side, watching with open amusement.

"How is it?" Donato murmured, leaning in close behind her.

"Amazing," she breathed, still staring at the car.

"The driver, or the car?"

"Both." The word slipped out before she caught herself.

Donato let out a low laugh. Kiara blinked, snapping out of it, clearing her throat quickly. "I-I mean the car. Yes. It's amazing." She looked at it again. "Whose is it?"

"Yours."

"Huh?" She turned to him, confused.

"It's yours, Mrs. Romano. Go take it for a ride." He smiled. "I know it's not the exact one you used to drive--the one you actually bought yourself, back then, that's still sitting safe in our parking lot in Italy. When we go back, you can drive that one again. Until then, this one's yours to use here."

"You- you bought this?" she asked, still processing it.

"I did."

"Why? It's expensive, why buy another one when I already have-She caught herself mid-sentence, realizing exactly how that sounded, sounding, for just a second, exactly like the Kiara from years ago who used to scold him for spending too freely.

"Because I wanted to." He smiled, something warm in it. "Remember, Mrs. Romano--your husband is a billionaire."

Kiara looked at him for a long second, then shook her head, cheeks going faintly red. "Give me the key."

He handed it over without another word. She looked at it, then at the car, then back at him. "Thanks." Then she turned and walked straight to the driver's side. "Come on, ladies. Let's go."

The rest of the women, still thoroughly entertained by the whole exchange, laughed and piled into the car after her. Kiara started the engine, and Donato stepped up beside the window.

"Drive safe, sweetheart."

"I will don't worry Ro." She said it easily, automatically, already shifting into gear, completely unaware of how naturally it came out of her--the old warmth in her voice, The name that only she used to cal him. the same tone she used to use with him without thinking.

Donato stood there a second longer, watching her pull away, something in his chest tightening at how effortlessly, unconsciously, she'd slipped back into sounding like herself with him--even if just for a moment, even if she hadn't noticed it at all. Its good sign his kiara is coming back to him.
_______

They'd made it to one of Rajasthan's most well-known malls, splitting up almost immediately once inside. Kavya and Elana were deep in a discussion in front of a mannequin dressed in an elaborate Rajasthani saree, while Sofia had wandered off to admire a lehenga a few stalls down.

Kiara's eye had caught something else entirely a pastel-colored saree in a shop across the way, delicate and understated, nothing like the heavier, more embroidered pieces everyone else was drawn to.

"Aunt, I'm going to check that shop," she said, pointing. "You all look here, I'll go try something on and come back."

Kavya, too absorbed in the saree in front of her, waved a hand without really looking up. "Yeah, okay."

Kiara made her way across the walkway, and just as she reached the entrance, someone bumped into her hard enough to make her stumble. She turned, expecting an apology, and got one-- quick muttered along with something pressed into her hand before the person took off, disappearing into the crowd before she could even ask what had just happened.

She frowned, turning the folded note over in her hands. Strange man, she thought. Why would he hand me something like this.
She opened it.and there it was written.

Meet me at the back staircase. I want to talk about your husband, Donato.

Her brow furrowed harder. Who was this? How did whoever wrote this even know who her husband was? She glanced back toward the shop where Kavya, Sofia, and Elana were still absorbed in their own conversation, then back down at the note.

I should go check who it is. And what they want, she thought, folding the note again, weighing it. After a moment, she made up her mind and headed toward the back staircase, leaving the others behind without saying anything.

When she reached it, she found a figure standing a few steps up, back turned toward her, hood pulled up over their head.

"Who-who are you?" Kiara asked, stopping a few feet away.
The figure turned and pulled the hood back.

"Hi, Kiara." The voice came with a slow, deliberate smirk.

Kiara's eyes went wide. "Rose. You-how are you even here?"

"I'm here." Rose smirk deepened. "I escaped from jail. Came straight here to see you. I'm guessing you're not exactly thrilled to see me."

"Thrilled?" Kiara let out a short, humorless laugh. "Honestly, part of me wants to kill you. Because of you, I lost five years of my own life. Because of you, my daughter grew up five years without her father."

The moment those words left her mouth, rose expression shifted, real surprise breaking through the smugness. "You- you have a daughter?"

Kiara's mouth curved into a slow, deliberate smirk of her own. "Yes. I have a daughter." She let the words sit for a beat before finishing. "Ours. Mine and Donato's."

Rose looked shaken, something breaking behind her composed expression. The man she'd wanted for herself had a daughter now, a whole life she'd never be part of. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"It doesn't matter if you have a daughter or not," she snapped, forcing the crack out of her voice. "I didn't escape jail to celebrate my ex-best friend's happy family. I came here for a reason."

"What reason. What do you want, Rose?" Kiara asked, irritation sharpening her voice. "Isn't it enough, what you already did to me? Five year ago."

"No, it's not enough." Rose's jaw tightened. "I wanted to break you. I wanted you locked away in that mental hospital for good. But it didn't work out that way, did it. Instead I spent five years rotting in jail. Donato made sure of it--sealed every appeal, blocked every hearing. I never got out, not once, in five whole years."

Something in Kiara's chest loosened at that. Some part of her had wondered, quietly, if Donato had ever softened toward Rose over the years, letting her sentence lapse into something forgiving. Hearing this now told her otherwise. He'd made certain she suffered every single day of it.

Kiara let a slow, satisfied smirk settle onto her face. "Good. You deserved every bit of it."

"You're enjoying my misery a little too much." Rose's voice dropped, venomous. "But don't worry. Not for long. If I can't have Donato, then neither will you."

"Oh, really?" Kiara tilted her head, unbothered. "And what exactly are you going to do about that?"

"I'm going to kill you." Rose spat it out, expecting the words to land like a blow.

Instead, Kiara just smiled. She stepped closer, entirely unhurried. "Really, Rose? You're going to kill me?" She let out a short, amused laugh. "Go on, then. Try it."

"I'm not bluffing, Kiara. I will kill you."

"Go ahead, darling. Try it." Kiara leaned in, her voice dropping to something soft and almost gentle, which somehow made it more chilling than if she'd shouted. "You know, Tara threatened to kill me once too. Look where she ended up. In the ground." She let that sit a beat. "Do you want the same fate she got?"

Rose's eyes went wide. "Wh-what do you mean by that?" Her voice shook.

"What I mean," Kiara said, "is that she was just as crazy for my Ro as you are. And I found out. I tried to stop her." A pause, deliberate. "She didn't listen."

Rose stared at her, pieces shifting into place, confusion clouding her face. "So you're saying--that day, at the penthouse--you didn't go there to stop Tara from killing donato. You went there to stop her from getting to Donato."

Kiara's smirk widened, slow and satisfied. "Bingo."

"But you told everyone she was the one trying to kill Donato. That it was Lucas's plan, that you found out through your own people, and you went there to warn her off, to protect him- Rose's confusion deepened. "That's the story everyone believes."

"That's what I told everyone." Kiara's voice dropped lower, colder, something dark curling into it. "But that's not exactly what happened." She laughed, low and unsettling. "Not the whole truth.

"Tara was never actually planning to kill Donato," she said. "It was only Lucas who wanted him dead. He's the one who sent her to get close to Donato in the first place-- that was the whole plan, seduce him, get near him, and finish the job. Except she fell in love with him instead.

And when Lucas ordered her to go through with it anyway, kill donato she refused. She told him she'd make sure Donato married her instead, that she'd protect him." Kiara's mouth curved. ''And my man overheard that entire conversation between Tara and Lucas. He told me everything.

So I went there myself, to make her understand--to tell her to walk away from Donato, because he was already mine. She didn't listen. She pulled a gun on me, ready to shoot. She just wasn't fast enough." Her voice stayed level, almost gentle.

"So no, it wasn't self-defense the way everyone thinks. I really did kill her. i did that for my love There's nothing I wouldn't do for my Ro."

"You're evil." Rose's voice cracked with disbelief. "All this time you played the victim. The poor, wronged wife."

"It's not like that, Rose." Kiara's tone stayed calm, unbothered by the accusation. "I never set out to become someone who could kill anyone. I was just an ordinary girl once. But things happen. Haven't you heard the saying--in love and war, everything is fair game."

Rose's eyes went wide with something between fear and disbelief. "I'll tell Donato everything. Tell him exactly what kind of murderer his wife really is."

"Oh, really?" Kiara's smirk didn't waver. "And you think he'll believe you over me?" She stepped closer, voice dropping into something colder. "Listen, Rose. I don't want to do anything to you right now.

What I did back then, I did out of love--a kind of love that made me capable of things I never thought I'd be capable of. I don't want to repeat any of it. So do yourself a favor. Leave. And don't ever try to come near my family again."

"No. I'm telling Donato everything."

"You-" Kiara was cutting in sharply when her name rang out from somewhere near the stair entrance-- Sofia, calling for her.

She shot Rose one last, unblinking look. "Just leave," she said, flat and final, and turned without waiting for a response, walking away without a single glance back.

Behind her, Rose stood frozen on the stairwell, shaken but resolute, watching Kiara's retreating figure disappear around the corner.

I'll make sure your husband knows exactly who you really are, Kiara, she thought, jaw tight, fear and fury tangled together as she pulled her hood back up and slipped away in the opposite direction.

Ahhh, what do you think about this twist? 🥴🫡