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Twenty-Two: The Architecture Of Aftermath
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2025-06-13 15:30:58Lillium Roosevelt
The click of the door echoed long after Adam had gone, a sharp, decisive sound that punctuated the silence of the apartment like a period at the end of a sentence. A sentence I wasn't sure I understood. I lay there for a moment longer, staring at the ceiling. The room was still drenched in that soft gold light, the kind that looked expensive even without trying. It bathed the minimalist furniture in a warm, flattering glow, highlighting the sharp angles and the meticulously curated artwork. But the sheets had cooled, and reality had begun to settle in like dust, a fine layer of something gritty and unwelcome. I exhaled and pulled the blanket aside. It was a silk duvet, heavy with a decadent warmth that now felt suffocating. The moment my feet touched the floor, I regretted it. The pain came sharp and immediate—not unbearable, but enough to make me stop breathing for half a second. A dull, br
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