When Roads Collide
The sun, relentless and unforgiving, beat down on the dusty path leading from the servants’ quarters to the main house. I was ten, and the path was etched into my memory, every pebble, every crack. It was a route I knew intimately, yet one I was rarely allowed to fully explore. My world was largely confined to the small, neat rooms behind the imposing mansion, a world of hushed conversations and the ever-present scent of cleaning products and warm food.
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