Cheongsams and Ghosts of the Past

Meilin's eyes fluttered open, greeted by the soft golden light of dawn filtering through the gauzy curtains of her window. But instead of rising to meet the day, she remained nestled in her silk sheets, her gaze fixed on the black and white photograph resting on her bedside table. It depicted a man, young and undeniably handsome, his eyes crinkled in a smile that hinted at a hidden sadness. Victor.

A complex wave of emotions washed over her – love, longing, a tinge of resentment that refused to be ignored. She reached out, her fingers tracing the outline of his face, the memory of his touch, both real and imagined, sending a shiver down her spine.