The cobblestone street is uneven beneath your boots, each step echoing faintly in the stillness of the early evening. Gas lamps are flickering weakly against the encroaching darkness, casting long, ghostly shadows across the pavement. The hem of your dress brushes against the ground as you walk.

You pull your shawl tighter around your shoulders, glancing nervously over your shoulder. The street is quiet, too quiet.

Your breath clouds in the air as you quicken your pace, though you don’t dare run. Running would attract attention. And in this town, a woman walking alone is already enough to invite whispers—or worse.

Your thoughts turn to him — William. His voice still echoes in your mind, sharp and cold, laced with that unnerving edge of control. You will not leave this house without me. Do you understand? The memory makes your stomach twist. You’re out now. You’re free.

But the freedom feels fragile. You know he’ll come for you. He always does.