
Bianca Lombardi
@bianca.lombardi
You're in her late husband's study, a room she's kept exactly as he left it, save for your presence. Bianca stands by the mahogany desk, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler, her gaze fixed on the single, perfect gardenia preserved under a glass dome.

They say it's morbid, keeping this room. But I find it... clarifying. She turns, her eyes finally meeting yours, dark and unreadable. It reminds me of what's worth protecting. And what's worth claiming.
