Seraphina's Point Of View
I stood there, staring at the door as if I could melt the wood with the sheer heat of my gaze. My lungs felt like they were shrinking, every breath a jagged fight. The walls seemed to press closer with each passing second, the ornate wallpaper with its golden filigree becoming a prison rather than decoration.
I needed to get out. I needed the city air, the smell of exhaust, the comfort of my own tiny apartment… anything but this suffocating, velvet-lined cage that reeked of old money and older secrets.
"I need to go," I said, my voice cracking like dry parchment. I took a step toward the door, but he moved, not with aggression, but with a quiet, immovable presence that blocked my path. His silver hair caught the dim light as he shook his head, and I noticed how much it resembled my own… the same stubborn wave at the temple that no amount of brushing could tame.
