Saint Stella; Girls Dormitory
It had been a day and a half, yet the storm within my heart remained unappeased. Every breath I took felt heavy, as if weighted by some unseen force. Curled up in the farthest corner of my small terrace, I stared out at the sky, hoping its strange patterns and soft clouds would somehow soothe me. It was a beautiful day—a bright, serene sky, gentle warmth filtering through the air. But to me, Varvara Gauthier, the gentle weather held no comfort. I could feel the cold whispers of regret and failure lingering at the edge of my mind, as persistent as shadows that refused to disappear with the dawn.
