From the first night, they blended into the rhythm of the hotel as if they belonged there. Every morning, they greeted the staff by name, asked how the night shift had gone, and lingered at the coffee station chatting quietly. They requested extra shampoo and soap with polite smiles, never demanding, never entitled. Their room package included unlimited toiletries, so Lina never gave the requests a second thought. The women always thanked her warmly, as if the items were gifts rather than amenities.
Their stay stretched from days into weeks, and then into a full month. The hotel stopped thinking of them as guests and began thinking of them as fixtures. Housekeepers grew used to their door sign—sometimes requesting privacy, sometimes allowing service—and the kitchen staff learned their tea preferences by heart. They didn’t behave like tourists. They rarely asked for recommendations, rarely left the building for long. When they did go out, it was usually for brief walks, returning with damp shoes and quiet smiles.
