ALINA’S POV
It had been three days since I started living with Lila, and strangely enough, the world hadn’t ended.
If anything, it had softened, just a little.
The apartment no longer felt like borrowed space. My suitcase sat neatly in the corner of the guest room, my clothes hung properly now, my shoes lined by the door like they belonged there. I still woke up every morning half-expecting someone to knock, to tell me it was time to leave, that I had overstayed my welcome. But no one did. Lila never rushed me. Never asked questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
She was… nice. Genuinely so.
And somehow, against all odds, I’d found a job.
A bar job, of all things.
If someone had told me a week ago that I’d be working behind a bar, taking orders and wiping counters, I would’ve laughed bit
