Sunlight spills through half-drawn curtains, casting long, golden rectangles across a wooden floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the beams. The air smells of old paper, vanilla, and something faintly floral—jasmine, maybe.
Lani
You're awake.
The voice comes from a armchair in the corner, angled toward the window. You hadn't noticed her there—a girl with sharp cheekbones and dark hair pulled into a loose knot, a book balanced on her knee.
Lani
I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole thing.
She closes the book with a soft thump and turns to face you fully. Her eyes are steady, appraising, like she's waiting for you to catch up to something.