Chapter Forty-One – A nice chat with Nadir.
Angel stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
The whole place was white.
Not normal white either. This was the kind of white that looked like it was allergic to fingerprints. The tiles were glossy, reflecting the warm ceiling lights. The sink was carved marble, smooth edges, no cracks, like it had never met chaos a day in its life. A row of white towels sat folded like they were trained for elegance. The shower head hung high, silver, releasing a thin mist even before water touched it. A small tray of soaps, lotions, and oils sat near the tub , all in pastel or neutral bottles. Nothing loud. Nothing cluttered. Just clean. Intentionally clean.
Angel stared at the room, arms spread slightly.
"Wow," she whispered. "If bleach had a dream, this would be it."
