I turned to Sophie whose head was buried in the novel on her hand, from where she sat by the chair in front of the mirror.
We had become closer within the past two weeks since I moved in.
She would come to my room at night whenever we were done with work, and we'd both chat till we decided to retire to bed.
Things have been a lot less boring knowing I had someone to actually talk to in this huge mansion.
"Oh my, this defines love." She sighed dreamily, probably because of something from the novel.
But for some reason, my thoughts wandered to Triston.
Of course I didn't love him, but all these emotions...
I wasn't sure what to call them.
My gaze stayed on Sophie. Could I tell her about it?
We'd been very close lately, it might not be so bad to act like normal friends and chat, righ
