The blue-and-white bedsheets sank beneath her. Anna lay casually atop the bedding, her burgundy coat spread beneath her graceful figure. Her upper body was wrapped in a gray sweater, her lower half in a charcoal skirt suit. Her long legs were comfortably sprawled across the bed, lacking any ladylike restraint yet appearing bold, dignified, and reserved.
Anna had a fair complexion, with delicately sculpted, deep-set features like those of a Russian woman. Her father had been Russian, which gave her distinctly Russian features and lent her an exceptionally beautiful, sensual, captivating air.
Her right forearm rested weakly across her forehead. Her black hair lay scattered over the bedding, while her azure eyes, like the sea, stared blankly at the ceiling as she searched through her memories.
Even she herself did not know what she had come back to this home to remember.
Was it the warm memories she shared with her brother? The days when he had protected her? Or the experiences that had gradually made her resent him more and more, hate him for becoming what he was now?
Anna's azure eyes unfocused as she sank into hazy recollections, her entire body lying limply atop the bedding as though boneless.
"Anna, hurry up and tidy Alex's garage. There are still several boxes of books piled in there. Today is Thanksgiving; I don't want you two to start fighting the moment you come home.
"Let me make this clear in advance: if you draw your gun today, I'll act as though I don't have a daughter like you. Have a proper Thanksgiving, understand? Come downstairs already...
"Honestly, why do you dislike Alex so much every single time? You practically fight whenever you meet, even though you two were so close when you were little..."
The rich scent of roast turkey