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The Pharaoh’s Daughter
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
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.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The end.