The following morning, Nicole found herself restless. No amount of tea or paint or Jasper's quiet company could settle the tightening in her chest. His words from the day before echoed endlessly— "some truths once spoken cannot be forgotten."
She pressed a hand to her breast, as if to still the racing of her heart. She trusted him, yes. But silence was a heavy burden, one that gnawed at her as surely as any cruel word could.
By noon, she could bear it no longer. Jasper had gone to speak with the guards, and Nicole slipped into her cloak, the familiar weight of the fabric giving her courage. Her feet carried her toward Chatan's dwelling, each step filled with equal parts guilt and determination.
The path wound through the heart of the settlement, alive with the sounds of children laughing, women carrying baskets, and men tending fires. Life thrived all around her—yet in her chest, shadows still pooled.
