The grey fabric of the sofa had officially memorized the curve of my spine. Four weeks in this second-floor sanctuary, and I no longer felt like a desperate intruder haunting the edges of someone else’s life.
I closed the thick mathematics textbook with a definitive thud, leaning back into the cushions. The room smelled of lavender diffusers and the faint, burnt-sugar ghost of expensive coffee drifting up from the cafe below.
It had become my favorite weekend ritual. The quiet hum of Senopati outside felt miles away from this bubble of domesticity.
“Alright, Princess. The set theory mission is officially accomplished. And would you look at that?”
I pointed a finger at the final page of Lyra’s exercise book. There wasn't a single stroke of red ink to be found.
Instead, a row of neat bl
