Arlene's POV
Rain pelted against the windows of the Parisian apartment. Through the bathroom window, the Eiffel Tower stood shrouded in mist, its iron lattice barely visible through the storm. That view had been the deciding factor when I chose this place a while ago. Now, as I gazed at my reflection, I realized how long it had been since I'd actually spent time here.
The bedroom door stood slightly ajar. When I pushed it open, expecting to find my familiar space, I instead stepped into something entirely different.
The room before me stretched impossibly wide, designed like an old Victorian nursery. Ornate bassinets lined the walls, each draped in delicate chiffon and silk ribbons. The craftsmanship was exquisite, almost ethereal in the dim lighting. My steps echoed across the polished wooden floors as I moved closer to examine them.
