Aria’s POV
I sat quietly in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, my hands wrapped around a cup of warm tea. My eyes followed Amara as she stood by the sink, washing a bowl of apples. But what truly caught my attention wasn’t the apples—it was her.
Gone was the ridiculous maid uniform Amanda always forced her to wear, with those frilly aprons and stiff collars that made her look like she belonged in an old drama. Instead, Amara now wore a soft yellow sweater and a pair of washed jeans. Her long blonde hair was tied up into a simple ponytail, loose strands framing her delicate face. She looked… normal. Like a girl in her early twenties, living a carefree life.
“You look so much fresher without that weird costume Amanda makes you wear,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips.
Amara
