Natalie
Malakai kissed me today of his own will.
That was progress, right?
I pushed open the familiar grand, carved doors of my father's home. This was where I called home for over twenty years.
Yet it felt like I was overstaying my welcome.
Each swing was heavy under my grip, as if dragging in the burden of the night’s failure with me. The sky was darkening rapidly, and the lights in the mansion cast a type of light glow across the edged floor. I raised my gaze, smiling. Oh, I had lived here alright. The high walls were lined with pieces of art and decor that cost more than most people’s homes.
It was beautiful.
Cold.
And tonight, it felt sharper as every edge, every polished, reminded me that this wasn’t really my home. It was his palace. I stepped inside, too tired to notice any
