Helen sobbed into her pillow, her cries muffled by the fabric. The loneliness was overwhelming, and the pain of the evening's events seemed to echo around her empty room. She felt as though she had laid bare her soul only to be met with silence. In that quiet, somber space, the hope she had clung to began to fade, leaving her with a profound sense of loss and sadness.
Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of the knock on the door. Her mind raced with possibilities. Could it be Magnar? A part of her desperately clung to the hope that he had come to make things right, to explain, to reassure her. The thought brought a flicker of hope amidst her despair.
Yet, another part of her reasoned against it. Why would he come now? He hadn't followed her earlier. Her emotions were tangled in confusion and doubt. Maybe it was someone else—someone delivering a package, or a neighbor needing something. The anticipation was almost painful, a bittersweet mix of hope and skepticism.
