The soft morning light spilled through the wide windows of Anabelle’s new house, painting the walls a gentle gold.
The scent of fresh flowers filled the air, mixing with the faint aroma of vanilla from the candle burning on the coffee table. The house was quiet, peaceful, and completely hers.
Anabelle stood barefoot on the polished wooden floor, holding a cup of tea between her hands.
She looked around and smiled. The living room was exactly as she wanted it—simple, warm, and full of life.
She had spent weeks decorating it, choosing every color and object with care. Pale cream walls, green plants in every corner, soft curtains that danced with the wind, and paintings she made herself hanging proudly on the walls.
“This feels like home,” she whispered to herself, her smile widening.
