Lara barely remembered the drive home. It was a miracle she hadn't caused an accident. Now that the first wave of anger had passed, it had taken the last of her energy with it.

She slammed the car door shut and trudged toward the lobby of her apartment building.

It was a fairly new construction that her father had invested in. A sleek structure defined by a clean geometric design that blended natural and industrial materials. The facade of deep gray concrete walls and metal framing was softened by amber-toned wooden paneling. On a sunny day, it caught light like warm honey. Each unit opened to a large balcony, floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the interiors with natural light. Lush greenery wrapped around the building in a warm embrace. 

"Afternoon, Mrs. Henderson," the security guard at the door greeted her. As always, he wore a polite smile. It was the only thing that softened his otherwise intimidating presence.

William Fletcher—that was his name—was in his mid to late thirties. He towered over everyone, thick with muscle, buzz cut perfectly neat. His uniform was always pristine, not a wrinkle or stain in sight.

Lara stopped at the mailbox.

"Afternoon," she replied, her voice flat.

"Bad day, huh?"

She didn't answer, just gave a small nod as she pulled out an envelope. A brief glance at the logo confirmed it was a bill.

"You know," Will said, flashing his usual warm smile, "on a bad day, my better half swears by vanilla ice cream and a glass of red wine."

She shut the box with a metallic click and turned to him.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I think some wine might be necessary today." She forced a smile. "Good day, Mr. Fletcher."

"Take care."

Inside the elevator, Lara caught sight of herself in the mirrored walls. Her eyes widened in horror. Her skin looked gray, dark smudges clung beneath her blue eyes, and black trails ran down her cheeks like ink. God. She looked like a wreck.

She rubbed at her skin, roughly trying to wipe it away.

In her apartment, she locked the door and let her bag slide off her shoulder to the floor. 

She exhaled. It was so pleasantly quiet, it felt like she removed herself from the outer world. Her eyes landed on the monstera by the cozy beige couch. It sat in a mint-colored pot, its beautiful, lush green leaves strangely calming. Lara took pride in caring for her plants. This one was her best and favourite achievement. 

She went to the bathroom, turned on the tap, and let hot water thunder into the tub.

In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of white wine—something sweet, with a delicate floral scent. She poured a glass, then topped it off with more, right up until it reached the brim.

She didn't want to think. She wanted to wash the day away. The plan was simple: a relaxing bath, some wine, and hopefully, sleep. 

But her mind refused to quiet down.