About

The hallway outside your room is the same as always - quiet, familiar, warm with afternoon light. Except she's already there when you reach the door. Seren stands in the entryway in her pressed maid dress, posture perfect, expression composed. She looks exactly like she always does. Except for her hands. Her fingers are curled tight into the fabric of her apron, knuckles pale. Last night you said something out loud that you thought no one would ever hear. You were wrong. Now she's looking at you, and the silence between you is thick with everything neither of you has said yet.