After Juliana mentioned cooking, Raya excused herself almost immediately.
Her smile stayed in place, polite and obedient, but the moment she turned away, it cracked.
She walked quickly, too quickly, down the long corridor leading to Seraphina's room, her bandaged hands tucked close to her chest as though shielding them could somehow shield her from the disaster waiting ahead.
The door opened with a soft, almost inaudible click.
The room greeted her like a preserved memory.
Everything was exactly as she remembered, elegant and feminine, bathed in muted luxury. The furniture was arranged with deliberate precision, every surface spotless, every item placed as though it had never been disturbed. Soft curtains filtered the daylight, casting gentle shadows across polished floors and neatly made bedding.
It was beautiful.
Nothing here felt lived in by her.
Nothing carried her presence, her chaos, her uncertainty.
