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The Conqueror’s Wife
Category: Historical
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The end.