tixtorinos
Lana never planned for life to start like this. At just nineteen, fresh out of school for physiotherapists, she imagined something simpler, calmer... but fate brought her to London, to Hotel Moldova, a place that sounded luxurious, but behind closed doors had its cracks. She had been working second shift for months. No one told her why-only that the schedule, neatly printed and pasted on the bulletin board, would always say her name with the time from 2:00 to 10:00 p.m. She's used to it. She didn't have much of a choice. The salary depended on a percentage, and a colleague from the first shift - Eliza, a woman with a cold look and an even colder temper - made sure she didn't have much left. The apartment she lived in was small, barely big enough to turn around, but it was hers. Her place, her peace in the city that never sleeps. That evening, as she prepared the room for the massage, the scent of lavender mingled with the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Her hands were tired, but used to it. All she wanted was to finish her shift without complications. Then a knock on the door broke the silence.