Morning settled into the house in layers of light that stretched across the room without urgency, touching the edge of the table first, the glass clear beneath a low arrangement of fresh white lilies, then moving across the floor, gradually warming the wood.Veronica stood by the window, barefoot. The cup in her hand had gone untouched long enough for the tea to cool, but she hadn't noticed. Outside, the garden kept its shape, every line intentional without feeling forced, the stone curve set into grass, the narrow stream catching light for a moment before disappearing again. She rested her shoulders against the frame as the fabric slipped, and she let it.What she wore did not belong outside these walls, soft, loose, barely structured, hanging from her body rather than defining it, moving with her, grazing her waist and falling cleanly across her hips. No effort to adjust it. Her hair was worse. Or better. Dark, unruly, falling forward when she leaned, slipping back when she straight
Dernière mise à jour : 2026-05-05 Read More