Eve stepped into her new room and froze.

  The word room didn’t quite fit. This was something else entirely. A studio, a suite—whatever rich girls called the kind of place where nothing had to be shared.

  Each half held an enormous bed, carved and pillared like it might come with a family curse. Wardrobes ran wall to wall. There was a low coffee table flanked by pale sofas, a kitchen unit tucked in the corner with a rice cooker and a fridge so sleek it looked like it judged people.

  A balcony opened straight onto the sea. Not a hint of rust on the railings.

  The bathroom—she’d checked, in a daze—held a tub she could get lost in, and a bidet that made her pause long enough to feel provincial.

  All of it, pristine. As if no one had ever lived here. Or no one real.

  The air smelled faintly floral, as if someone had staged perfection and forgotten to add flaws.

  A carafe of water, cool with condensation, sat untouched on the sideboard, its label in a language Eve didn’t recognise. Even the chairs looked like they’d never been sat in. Everything was curated. Calibrated. A place designed to host excellence—not house it.

  She didn’t touch anything. Not yet.

  It wasn’t just the money. It was intent. Someone had thought about every last detail. It all fit, all too well, and Eve wondered if she could fit in it herself.

  Behind her, the door clicked open.

  Lila stood framed in the glow of the hallway. Pale skin, dark eyes—assessing. Uncertain.

  Eve offered a hesitant smile. “Lila.”

  Lila nodded, smoothing the sleeve of her uniform. “Eve, if I may call you that?”

  Eve blinked. “It’s my name.”

  A pause. Lila looked down. “Sorry. Didn’t want to get it wrong. Please don’t call me Monroe. I—Sophie wanted to talk after the maze.”

  Her voice was too careful. Like she wasn’t sure if saying Sophie’s name would cause a reaction.

  Eve shrugged. “No need to apologise.” She gestured at the room. “It’s kind of overwhelming, right?”

  That got the flicker of a smile. Brief. Tentative.

  Lila stepped inside, posture composed but brittle. Not comfortable—controlled.

  “I’ll try to keep things organised,” she said. “That’s what I do.”

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Eve nodded. “That’s good. Not really my thing, but we’ll make it work.”

  “I can manage your side too, if that’s helpful,” she said. “If you’re busy.”

  Eve paused. Lila’s tone was casual, but her eyes flicked away as soon as she said it. Offering too much, like someone trying to pre-empt a rejection.

  “I can handle my own mess,” Eve said. “But thanks.”

  That earned a proper smile, small and real. But it didn’t last.

  The silence stretched.

  Lila’s hands twisted slightly in the hem of her shirt.

  She had seemed different after the maze. Shaken, yes—but poised. Wincing at the pain on her hands, but keeping it together.

  Now she stood like a girl expecting to be scolded. And Eve didn’t know how to bring that other version back.

  Eve wanted to say something comforting. Instead, she kept unpacking. She was still deciding if she belonged here. Saying the wrong thing might prove she didn’t.

  She had just set a folded shirt in the drawer when the hallway filled with footsteps—quick, full of girls running simply because they could.

  “Come on, Lila,” a voice teased. Light, amused. “We got the best room in the bloc, come see! You can’t hide in there forever.”

  The door swung open. Sophie entered first, effortless and gleaming, the sort of girl who assumed every room was hers until proven otherwise.

  Maya followed, quiet, watchful. Not quite trailing, not quite independent.

  Sophie’s eyes scanned the suite—then landed on Eve.

  “So,” she said smoothly, “you’re the one who carried her.”

  Eve straightened. “Eve.”

  “Mmm.” Sophie stepped inside, as if invited. “Practical. Might be handy.” Her tone was playful, but her smile was sharp. “I’m Sophie.

  This is Maya.”

  Maya gave a faint nod. Her eyes flicked to Eve, then to Lila, and back again—cataloguing something.

  Sophie smiled. “I must say, Lila made quite the impression earlier. All grace under pressure. Until the stumble.”

  Lila tensed. Eve’s stomach tightened.

  “She was hurt.”

  “Yes.” Sophie’s eyes stayed on Eve. “But not badly. You did well. It’s not easy, carrying someone else.”

  Something in the way she said it made Eve feel like she was being weighed. Not judged. Assessed.

  “So, the real question,” Sophie said. “Are you here to lead, or just follow whoever sounds confident enough?”

  It was said like a joke, but Eve heard the edge beneath it.

  She looked Sophie dead in the eye. “I do what needs doing.”

  Sophie’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A survivor, then.”

  She turned to Lila, already dismissing her. “Good instincts. She’s strong. She can be of use.”

  Lila looked down. Said nothing.

  Eve saw it then—how Lila’s shoulders pulled inward under Sophie’s gaze. How the room had tilted the moment Sophie walked in.

  And a thought struck her, uninvited:

  If Sophie had guided Lila, she wouldn’t have fallen.

  Eve looked away. Guilt coiled in her gut.

  Sophie moved toward the door. “We’ll leave you two to settle in.”

  She paused, just long enough.

  “But do pay attention,” she added, glancing back at Eve. “It’s always useful to know who’s after whom. Monroe, do tell your girl not to drink from the bidet, will you?”

  Maya tutted, hesitated, but followed. As she passed, she met Eve’s gaze—just for a breath.

  “You carried her all the way out,” Maya said quietly. “That’s not nothing. Most wouldn’t have.”

  Then she was gone.

  The door clicked shut.

  Lila exhaled, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I… hope that wasn’t too much.”

  Eve didn’t answer straight away.

  She’d felt it. The imbalance. The ease with which Sophie had taken up space, bent the air around her, made Lila smaller just by looking.

  And Maya—Maya had seen it all. And said nothing until the very end.

  Eve swallowed.

  “No,” she said. “Not too much.”

  But the air had shifted.

  Sophie had taken nothing, and still left them with less.

  Eve couldn’t name the feeling, not quite. Just the sense that something vital had been moved three inches to the left—and if she wasn’t careful, she’d spend the next year walking into walls.