Serenya
I stepped into the house and paused just inside the entryway, the scent of jasmine and cedarwood greeting me like a ghost from another life. Everything looked the same, from the intricate gold-framed mirror in the hallway to the velvet drapes that had never moved an inch in years. Yet somehow, it all felt different. Like I was trespassing in a place I used to call home.
One of the maids, Nara, spotted me first.
“Good morning, Miss Serenya,” she said, hurrying over. “Your mother and father just returned. Madam went up to her room. Sir too.”
I nodded, clutching the strap of my handbag tighter than I needed to. “Thanks, Nara.”
My legs carried me up the stairs even though my head buzzed with hesitation. I didn’t knock on their doors. I didn’t peek inside. I went to my old room in
