Layla's POV:
When I saw Emilia's house, I couldn't believe my eyes.
It was an old-looking two-story detached house, with most of the paint already peeling off.
Untamed vines choked the walls, testament to years of neglect.
'Any passerby would mistake this for a long-abandoned property. How had Emilia managed to survive her childhood in this dreary prison of a home?'
I walked to the door, took a deep breath, and raised my hand to knock.
Long minutes passed before the door creaked open, revealing a disheveled man with unkempt gray hair who reeked of stale whiskey and desperation.
"Oh my God! Sweetie, you've finally come home!"
Before I could react, he pulled me into a hug.
He patted my back with exaggerated tenderness, his affection a calculated performance.
However, the stench of
