Naomi slipped into her clothes—a baggy top and skirt that felt soft against her skin. The fabric's gentle texture comforted her, as if offering a rare moment of ease amidst the storm of her thoughts. She tugged the hem of the skirt absentmindedly before stepping away from the wardrobe. It fit her perfectly, not too loose, but roomy enough to let her breathe freely.
When she turned, her eyes fell on the dining area. Breakfast had already been laid out, every dish covered meticulously to preserve its warmth. Plates and silverware were perfectly aligned, the arrangement flawless, as though someone had gone to great lengths to ensure it was waiting for her. Naomi's gaze lingered on the sight for a moment before she let out a quiet sigh. There was a weight pressing against her chest—an invisible force she couldn't name, though its presence was all too familiar.
