Resonate

The morning's news blared from the television, the image of Zephyr and I plastered across the screen, our forced smiles twisted into a narrative of love and power. But the only love I felt was a gnawing ache in my chest, a hollow echo of Maggie's tear-stained face from the gala.

My fingers trembled as I reached for my phone, dialling her number for the umpteenth time. The voicemail clicked in, her gentle voice a stark contrast to the chaos surrounding me. Each unanswered call chipped away at my already frail resolve, the discordant melody within me spiralling into a symphony of guilt and despair.

She was right to be upset. My lie, fabricated to protect her, had become a public spectacle, painting me as a willing participant in Zephyr's schemes. Every headline, every social media comment, felt like a betrayal, etching another line between us with each passing minute.

But self-pity wouldn't solve anything. Maggie deserved the truth, not the sanitised version fed to the public. Taking a
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