It wasn't even lunchtime yet, but Amara already felt exhausted, emotionally, mentally, whatever other category existed for the sort of quiet exhaustion that crept in after spending an entire Saturday in Darien's orbit. She'd barely slept the night before, and no, not because of anything scandalous. Just… too many thoughts.
She hadn't even touched the new phone he gifted her. The thing was still tucked neatly in its box, wrapped in that annoyingly premium matte paper that felt like it was judging her for hesitating. Meanwhile, her cracked old phone, which had the battery life of a potato, stayed loyal in her hand.
So she decied fled somewhere safe.
The orphanage wasn't much, just a modest, aging building squeezed between a narrow park and a half-abandoned convenience store. The front gate still creaked, same as always, and the faint smell of old books and lemon cleaning solution always clung to the hallway like a familiar hug. She drew in a slow breath as she stepped inside.
