Here. Yet again.

He wanted her to stay.
Finding himself falling into the valley of expected horrors, he barely panicked. These deadly moors hiding behind white curtains had begun to swindle him again. And he, conceded.

Alas, he found himself exactly there. There. The one place he had been running away from. All this while.

Misguided

"She felt misguided, like she had led them all in the wrong direction.
Her passion wasn't writing or maintaining a stock of pretty notebooks or a humongous wardrobe of clothes.
Her passion was deception.
The mere act of faking."