Aria pov

I looked at her suspiciously, brows furrowed, my posture stiff. A sly smile curled on her lips as she sank into my couch like she owned the place. My arms crossed tightly over my chest.

"I hate riddles. I never get them right," I muttered, tugging off my hairband, fingers slowly combing through my strands. She ignored me, tapping her nails rhythmically against the armrest, eyes locked onto the fabric like she was reading secrets in the seams.

"Well, I'm not here for riddles either," she said coolly. "I'm not a ghost. And I'm definitely not some lowlife like you. I value my space, my peace, and most...