Purple Summers didn't want to go in.
It wasn't because she was afraid of Nathaniel Summers; it was that every part of the room's arrangement bore the shadow of her newlywed days, and each part felt like a silent, taunting irony.
However, what surprised Purple was that the room seemed different now.
She couldn't pinpoint the change; in fact, the furniture was in the same place, but the atmosphere felt haunted with yin energy—she felt an inexplicable chill the moment she stepped inside.
Purple felt cold and only then realized she had already walked in.
Having entered, there was no need to back out now. Doing so would make her seem timid and spineless.
The light in the room was dim, with thick curtains drawn, completely blocking the warm sunlight outside, making the air cool as water.
A laptop was placed on the table, its screen casting a cold light around, reflecting on the wedding photo hanging on the wall where the faces of the photographed couple looked ghastly and grim.
