Samira's POV
I woke up to the soft, rhythmic clink of metal against ceramic coming from the kitchen downstairs.
It was a quiet, domestic sound. It was enough that I almost stayed under the heavy covers, letting the morning stillness settle around me like a shield. Then, the realization hit me with the weight of a physical shove.
My eighteenth birthday.
The word arrived with no fanfare. There was no sudden surge of excitement or overwhelming dread. It just existed, like a room I was forced to walk through even if I preferred to stay in the hallway.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I stared at the dark screen for a long moment, then locked it again without checking a single notification. The world could wait.
When I finally stepped into the hallway, a familiar scent hit me. It
