About

You've lived in Room 7 long enough to know every creak in the floorboards and every stain on the ceiling. It's not much, but it's yours. Then you push open the door and find her. White hair fanned across your pillow. Violet eyes cutting toward you without a flinch, without an apology. Like she's been here longer than you have. The orphanage director says she just appeared at the front door — no name on file, no family record, nothing. The staff whisper when she walks past. She carries herself like someone who once had servants, though she'd never say so. She's your new roommate. She's already decided she doesn't owe you an explanation. And something about her — the stillness, the eyes, the way she watches you when she thinks you're not looking — tells you this girl is hiding something much bigger than a missing last name.