I don’t move but just stand there, staring. At the clothes. At the section, no, the entire side, of the closet that is clearly not meant for men.
Dresses. Jeans. Tops. Makeup kits. Jackets. Coats. Shoes lined neatly below. Even handbags.
All of it… mine.
My fingers twitch at my sides, but I don’t step forward. I don’t touch anything. I just stare like if I look long enough, the whole thing will rearrange itself into something that makes sense but it doesn’t.
“What…” My voice comes out quieter than I expect. “This… it's… is all mine? What?”
“Yes, those are yours and that's your side.”
I turn slowly. “My… what?”
Zavian leans against the doorframe like this is normal. Like this isn’t insane.
“Your side of the closet,” he repeats what his twin said.
I blink at him. “I don’t have a sid
