The Truth Comes Out

Rome, Italy.

Alliana's pov:

RING! RING! RING!

I groaned and shoved the alarm clock off my nightstand; its relentless beeping was grating on my nerves. Beside me, Souline let out a groan of protest before sitting up, clearly just as unwilling to face the morning. I switched on the lamp and squinted at the fallen clock—7:30 AM. "So early," Souline said, punctuating her words with a yawn. I sighed, tossing my covers aside. "It's nothing new."

Souline stretched, her joints popping as she swung her legs over the bed. "What time do you usually get there for visitation?" she asked. "Depends. Usually around ten," I said. "Woah!, she said, straightening up with a wince. I reached out. "Can you help me up?" She gave a nod, stepping closer. "Do you want me to get the bathroom ready?" she asked. "Mhm," I said.