Much like hers and Arthur's room, their parents' room hadn't changed at all. Everything was right where it was the last time Arabella had stepped foot inside.
Some of her mother's jewelry even still hung on the vanity mirror, repelling that insufferable bluish hue against its bling.
Arthur just stood there, at the center of the room, doing nothing in particular. Expectedly, the man did not react to his sister walking and stopping by his side. His eyes remained glued onto the painting of his parents posted over the bed frame.
By all means, it stood as one of the only paintings of them together. Most importantly, it was one of the rare memories featuring a smile on Eleanor's beautiful face.
"Nothing has changed at all, hasn't it?" she murmured, irises on the canvas.
Arthur said nothing, of course.
