Fortune's Forgotten Daughter
Just faint antiseptic, like someone had sprayed away everything that made it real.
Their "wing" was bigger than her entire apartment.
There were two bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a sitting area with modern furniture in shades of bone and frost. No clutter. No texture. No soul.
Zoe tiptoed into her bedroom and stopped at the doorway like she wasn't sure she was allowed in.
Anya followed, unzipping her coat. "Go ahead, baby. It's yours."
The room had a plush white rug, a twin-sized bed with a silver-gray headboard, and a bookshelf filled with hardcovers arranged by color. A small desk sat under the window, and a tablet lay on top-brand new, still in its case.
Bab Populer