Skip to content
The Pharaoh’s Daughter
Category: Historical
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.