Skip to content
The Gardener’s Daughter
Category: Romance
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.