Her Professors
Kayla’s POV
The silver necklace felt cool against my fingertips, a delicate weight in the velvet box. Beside it, the crystal bottle of perfume shimmered, catching the soft light filtering through the window. Every detail of this evening had been orchestrated, a silent symphony played out by unseen hands. The gown, a liquid cascade of silver silk, lay draped across the bed, whispering promises of elegance. The shoes, barely-there straps and modest heels, waited patiently beside it. Even the fragrance, a soft bloom of white florals, had arrived without a note, a phantom touch.
Bab Populer