I sat in the quiet of my room that evening, staring at the faded wallpaper and the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
Every moment I spent in this house, the nights filled with whispered confessions and tender embraces with Marion, the painful revelations his past with Belinda, felt like a double-edged sword.
I was torn between the magnetic pull of the answers I so desperately needed and the overwhelming urge for self-preservation.
Now, as the weight of the past pressed down on me, I found myself at a crossroads: Should I keep my distance from Marion and Belinda, or should I continue to stay in the house, clinging to the remnants of our intimate nights in the hope that the truth would eventually set me free?
