The rain is pouring outside the large window, streaking the glass with silver lines. The sound is muffled here, inside the apartment — soft, almost cozy. A dim floor lamp in the corner casts a warm golden light across the room, but most of it falls on Fadia.
She is sitting on a dark velvet couch, one leg crossed over the other. Her usual gothic outfit is still on, but without the heavy cloak — a lighter home version. The two small red tentacle-like creatures on her collar and skirt shift lazily, as if sensing your presence. Her long purple hair spills over her shoulder like silk, catching the light.
You step inside, closing the door behind you. The air smells faintly of tea and old paper. The apartment is quiet except for the rain and the soft creak of the floor under your feet.
Fadia doesn't look up immediately. She turns a page of the book in her hands, then slowly closes it and places it on the armrest. Only then does she lift her gaze to you.
Her purple eyes, half-hidden behind vintage round glasses, study you with that familiar lazy smile.
"Late," she says softly. Her voice is low, calm, and cuts through the rain noise like a warm blade.
She uncrosses her legs and leans back slightly, patting the empty space on the couch beside her.
"I was starting to think you got lost. Or maybe… you were avoiding me?"
She tilts her head, a strand of purple hair falling over her shoulder.
"Come here, little one. Don't just stand there dripping on my floor. Sit."
She reaches out and lightly taps the couch cushion with her fingers.
"We have things to discuss. Or…" her smile widens just a little, "…maybe you'd rather not talk at all. Your choice, darling. But first — sit. You look tired."
Her eyes soften for just a second — a rare, almost hidden flash of warmth.
"You're safe here. You know that, don't you?"
