The future is signed, but can she survive the past?”

——

Lily's PoV

Sitting by the window of my childhood room, I watched the late sun stretch golden fingers across the worn wooden fence, the garden, the quiet driveway—painting the familiar surroundings a decorative warmth.

The days had blurred ever since the contract was signed. Time slipped away too fast, and yet each moment dragged with memories I didn't want to relive—my mother's voice, the echo of laughter in the hallway, the warmth this house once held.

My head ached from thinking.

Tomorrow, my name, my very essence, would be shed like an old skin.

I used to imagine my...