EmiliaIt started with the smell of lilies.Whenever I catch it now, I know I'm dreaming or remembering.The memory always began the same — mother's scent in the air, soft and fading, and then the sound of muffled crying in the hallway. That was the day everything changed. The day the world stops making sense.I was 10.“She's not coming back, Emilia,” Father said. His voice was raw, hoarse. His face, always so composed, crumbled like paper in the rain.I didn't understand death then. Not really. I remember waiting by the door for hours, thinking if I was a good girl like Mama said I would, that if I waited long enough, that she would come back.But she didn't.Someone else came instead. Her name was Ariel, my father's mistress. And she moved in like she owned the place, like the house didn't still reek of lilies and grief. She painted over Mama’s favourite walls, tossed out her china set, and even took her place at the dinner table.I hated her.I hated her perfume, all sweet and s
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-07-25
Masuk
