They took me to a room in the left wing of the house.
"We hope you're comfortable," his mother said, smiling with genuine kindness. "If you need anything, my room is down the hallway."
The room was spacious, with cream-colored walls and a window overlooking the lake. The sheets smelled of lavender. There was a jug of water on the bedside table, a precisely folded blanket at the foot of the bed, and a cool little floral arrangement.
It wasn't improvised, they had thought of me. And yet, when I closed the door, I felt something strange.
Not loneliness, not discomfort. But the feeling of being housed in a space where everything had its exact place... and I still didn't know what mine was.
I carefully took off my dress, hung it where it should go, looked at myself for a moment in the mirr
