Chapter 253: Fever and a Familiar Woman
The room smelled of damp earth and old pages, a thin sourness that rode the air with every shallow breath Sophia took. Books lay everywhere—stacked on the floor, heaped on the single chair, falling over across the bedspread.
She could see the random curve of a faded spine, the gold flecks of a title worn thin, a loose leaf pressed between two volumes like a little brown flag. The place was familiar in a way that tugged at some private place inside her; she knew she had been here before. Knew—without being able to say how—that this room belonged to her.
The room was comforting. The feeling beneath her bones told her it was her safe space. But even that thought wasn't able to fill her with relief. Instead, it filled her with dread.
