Princess of Assassins

Zoe exhaled softly as she stood at the threshold of her old bedroom, her gaze sweeping over the familiar yet altered space. The room was steeped in nostalgia, though the refurbished door hinted at the passage of time. She pushed the double doors open, their hinges smooth and silent, and stepped inside. Everything that had once been broken or worn had been replaced, yet the essence of her childhood remained. The princess-like four-poster bed, adorned in shades of pink and purple, still dominated the room. Her favorite stuffed toys, the ones she had clung to during countless nights, sat neatly arranged on the bed. Unopened gifts, perhaps from birthdays or holidays long past, were piled in a corner, their ribbons still crisp and untouched.

"Do you love it, Zoephia?" Gatsby's voice broke the silence, his tone warm but expectant.