kaira astor
The creak of the great oak door swinging open is muffled to my ears, my vision a blur as I stare unblinking at the spot where Amara stood. Unwanted thoughts steps into my mind, seeping through every hollow space, searing to suffocate me. So much so that my head almost falls forward, heavy with assumptions and visions of Dax. My first friend of sorts, besides Amara, who to some level, knew how to manoeuvre himself into my live, without diving head first and distorting every aspect I so carefully tried—try to control.
I easily weaved him into my life and found comfort in his presence surrounding me most of the time, I found myself enthralled by his jokes and ability to make me feel different, as if the weight of being princess and heir didn’t define who I was. A sob crawls al
