Chapter 64. The Shape of Who She Was

Margherita stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a thick white robe, her damp hair curling softly against her neck. The steam followed her for a moment before fading into the cool air of her room.

She crossed to the dresser and opened the top drawer, rummaging through the neatly folded clothes. Sweaters. Tees. Jeans. Leggings. All plain, soft, and practical.

She sighed and muttered, “Comfy, sure. But so boring.”

Nothing in these piles hinted at her—not the silk, not the color, not the careless luxury she once took for granted. It was all too… ordinary.

A soft humming drifted through the half-open door.

Margherita peeked into the corridor. Gabriella was walking by, a laundry basket on her hip, humming some cheerful tune.

Margherita leaned on the doorframe, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Gabriella!”

The girl stopped mid-hum, blinking. “Oh! You’re up early. Need something?”

Margherita tilted her head. “Maybe. But it’s a secre