Rosalina p.o.vI jumped, dropping the book and the paper. Christopher was standing in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his jacket anymore, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. He looked tired."I... I was just looking," I said, my heart racing. "I didn't mean to pry."He walked into the room, his eyes landing on the sketch on the floor. He picked it up and stared at it for a long time. His expression changed. It wasn't cold anymore. It was... sad."This belonged to my mother," he said, his voice barely a whisper."She was an artist?" I asked softly."She was many things," he said, putting the paper back into the book. "But this room was her favorite place. She used to sit here for hours.""Where is she now?"Christopher looked at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to tell me. But then the mask came back. His eyes turned hard again."She’s gone," he said shortly. "And you shouldn't be here. This part of the house is off-limits.""I'm sorry," I said, moving toward the door.
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