Bianca pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent of stale lavender and dust clinging to the air like a forgotten memory. Silvana stood in the center of the room, her hand hovering over a porcelain vase as if frozen in time. Her gaze, usually warm and kind, held a sharp edge of worry.
"Bianca!" Silvana exclaimed, the vase trembling in her grasp. "There you are, W... Where have you been? I've been frantic with worry ever since you vanished like a wisp of smoke!"
Bianca crossed her arms, the defiance in her stance a stark contrast to the girl Silvana remembered. "Signorina," she began, her voice laced with a bitterness that seemed to come from a place far deeper than her recent absence, "you needn't fret so. I haven't been gone an eternity."
