I sat in the chair in my study, the lamplight pooling warm over the desk and turning the scattered papers into islands of gold and shadow.
The room felt quieter than it should have, almost intimate in the way the dark velvet curtains held the light at the windows and the faint scent of ink, wax, and expensive wood lingered in the air, but there was another memory clinging to it too—the lingering embarrassment of the harem-dancer outfit I had worn before, the one that had made me feel half humiliated and half dangerously noticed.
I don't know why I am pondering over that memory, but for some reason... I am.
Even now, when I closed my eyes for a second, I could still remember the weight of the fabric, the way the silks had brushed my skin, the way the veil had made every glance feel deliberate, as if the entire world had been leaning closer just to see whether I would blush.
