"You shouldn't be here," Olivia said, not as a threat—more as a fact, like the tide or the turning of bones underground.
Jane smiled. Not a happy smile. The kind that remembers drowning.
The word pushed hung in the air like frost. olivia would jane wilde
"I came to ask you one thing," Olivia whispered.
"Go on."
Here’s an interesting, atmospheric text based on your prompt, imagining a tense or intriguing exchange between Olivia and Jane Wilde: The Silence Between Her Names
Jane Wilde tilted her head. A droplet of water slid from her hairline down her temple, though it hadn't rained in weeks. "You shouldn't be here," Olivia said, not as
The wind died. The gate stopped clanking. Olivia felt the cold then—not from the air, but from inside her own chest, where a memory of Jane's laugh used to live.