We reached the upstairs hallway, wide and lit with soft lamps that cast a golden glow.
Archibald led me to a door, opening it with a flourish. "Your suite, madam."
I stepped in, my breath catching.
The room was big—bigger than our entire old house.
The bed was king-sized, with a canopy of white fabric draped like clouds, gold threads woven in for sparkle.
Blue pillows added a calm touch, and a hint of lavender from the curtains made it feel fresh.
The rug was thick and white, with blue patterns like waves, soft under my feet like walking on feathers.
I wiggled my toes again, admiring how it cushioned every step.
"Oh, Seraphina..." I whispered, my voice full of admiration.
She stood in the doorway, watching me with those blue eyes. "This is for me?"
"Yes, Mom. All yours," she said, her voice lovely and warm.
Liora, still in her arms, clapped. "Pretty room for mom!"
I walked to the bed, my hands trembling as I touched the quilt—floral patterns in blue and white, soft as silk against my rough skin.
It gave a little under my fingers, plush and inviting. "This fabric... It's like nothing I've felt." My breaths were shallow now, tears blurring my vision.
[After years of thin blankets, this is what comfort feels like. Lovely, so lovely.]
The maids assigned to me—two women, one with a nurturing smile and the other quiet but kind— stepped in.
"May we help with the bath, madam?" the nurturing one asked, her voice gentle like a friend's.
I nodded, my weary body yearning for the warmth. "Yes... Thank you."
They led me to the bathroom, a room of marble and gold accents, with a tub big enough for two.
The heater hummed here too, the air steamy and inviting.
As they filled the tub with lavender bubbles, I undressed slowly, my old clothes feeling rough compared to what was coming.
The water was hot but perfect, steaming up the mirror.
I sank in, my breath turning to sighs as the warmth wrapped around me.
[This... this washes away the dirt of the slums. My aches... fading.]
The maids worked gently—one scrubbing my back with a soft loofah, the other pouring oil that smelled of roses.
"Relax, madam," the nurturing one said. "You're home now."
Home. The word made me tear up. "It's... lovely," I whispered, my voice cracking.
After the bath, they helped me dry with towels soft as clouds, then applied skin care— a creamy lotion that sank into my skin, making it glow.
"This is a moisturiser," the quiet one explained, her voice soft. "Keeps your skin smooth."
I touched my arm, admiring the softness. "Feels like silk."
Then the mask—cool cucumber on my face, soothing. "For refreshing," the nurturing one said.
Perfume next—a misty spray of jasmine, light and floral. "Your scent now," she said with a smile.
The nightwear was silk, a soft fabric gliding over my skin like a whisper.
Blue with white lace, it felt luxurious, lovely against my body.
They did my hair—brushing it gently, braiding it loose. "You look rested," the quiet one said.
I admired myself in the mirror, my weary face looking younger.
[Seraphina... thank you. This is admiring, so admiring.]
They led me downstairs, the heater's warmth following like a friend, and I was thankful to my daughter for it.