Iyana stood at the open window in her room at the military quarters. Her violet eyes stared blankly at the moon hanging in the middle of the sky, while her fingers casually swirled the cigar after taking a puff. Although the bitter smoke felt foreign in her mouth.
She had been proud of herself for quitting, vowing never to touch the cursed habit again, but none of that mattered now.
The twisting knot of anxiety in her chest had grown too unbearable, suffocating her like the ash-laden air she now breathed. It wasn't the usual kind of stress that had driven her back to this vice.
No, she had weathered worse storms after quitting—her family's downfall, their betrayals, the frustration of her unwanted marriage—but none of those compared to this.
