A tightness twisted in Alara’s stomach, the weight of what she knew pressing against the silence she chose to keep. It wasn’t her place to say anything; that story belonged to Mira, and Alara had to trust her sister would share it when she was ready. Still, she couldn’t help but hope things would work out between them. Mira deserved a bit of light after everything.
There was truth in what he said, even if she didn’t want to admit it aloud. Holding on to even the smallest piece of the past meant she was still bound to it. She exhaled softly, offering a faint, thoughtful smile. “I’d move,” she said finally. “Find somewhere new. Start over. I’ve got a few ideas.”
This was progress, Anthony thought to himself as he stood talking to Alara. In a weird sense, being able to stand in Alara's bakery and chat with a relative feeling of discomfort was a lot better than speeding past the shop window in a hurry. "Care to elaborate on the ideas? Or are they under lock and key?"
"Starting over can be daunting, trust me the move from being a Quidditch player to a commentator was not easy." Anthony pointed out, shrugging softly. "But eventually, I began to enjoy the change."


















