Irina
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the ornate mirror across the room. The girl gazing back at me was a stranger - hollow-eyed and pale as death, trapped behind gilded bars of her own making. This lavish prison, dripping with silk and jewels, felt more suffocating with each passing day.
My fingers traced the delicate embroidery on the bedspread, seeking some tangible connection to reality. But everything felt distant, muffled, as if I were underwater. The silence pressed in around me, broken only by the pounding of my treacherous heart.
With effort, I rose and drifted to the window. Beyond the glass, the Volkov estate sprawled in manicured perfection - emerald lawns, vibrant flowerbeds, sculpted topiaries.
"Pretty cage for a pretty bird," I murmured, my breath fogging
