IRENE
I stepped into the expansive living room, clinging tightly to Tristan's arm. My eyes swept over the familiar, yet, strange house.
Six years.
It had been six years since I had last set foot in his house. I had left for London six years ago to complete my studies, hoping to pick up this life when I returned.
The interiors and furniture had changed. All new to me. It was like I had never been here before.
“It's… different,” I murmured, more to myself than Tristan. "Everything has changed.”
Tristan nodded, guiding me to the long, golden coloured, plush sofa. "He has always been a weird and reserved person. No one knows what he wants most of the time, or all the time.”
I settled onto the sofa, the leather cool beneath my fingers. Tristan sat beside me, so close that one would thin
