NICOLE
The evening is quiet, the kind of deep silence that only seems to happen when snow is falling. I'm curled on the sofa in the main living area, a book open but unread on my lap.
My eyes are on the window, watching the fat, white flakes drift past the glass, painting the world in soft, clean white.
My mind isn't on the story in the book. It's downstairs, in the parts of this house I've never seen. I wonder what Kenji is doing with his 'souvenir'. And with Akane.
A cold knot tightens in my stomach. I know what he's capable of. I've seen it. I should be horrified. But after what they did… the feeling is more like a grim, dark satisfaction. Is that wrong? Have I become so twisted by this world?
My left hand rests on the open page. The massive diamond on my finger catches the soft lamplight, scattering tiny rainbows across the paper. I still can't believe it. He proposed.
