Zerah
The hallway felt colder than I remembered. My footsteps echoed against the marble, and my chest tightened with each step I took. Everything about this place screamed distance — from the spotless floors to the quiet staff who avoided eye contact. It wasn’t a home. It was a fortress. One that didn’t want me in it.
I found myself in the garden, drawn by the moonlight spilling across the hedges. The wind was gentle, brushing my skin like a whisper, and still, I felt suffocated.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” a soft voice asked.
I turned and saw one of the younger maids standing by the doorway, her face full of concern.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said, forcing a smile I didn’t feel.
She nodded and stepped back inside. Alone again.
I wrapped my arms around myself and sank onto the nearest
