The bedroom was dimly lit—just a single lamp casting a golden pool of light on the velvet headboard. The bed was turned down, the sheets freshly laundered, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath for her return.
Sofia stood at the threshold, still wearing Adam's shirt, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. She hesitated. It looked the same. And yet everything had changed.
Adam came up behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her waist, his chin resting against her shoulder. "It's your room as much as mine," he murmured. "Come in."
She let him lead her to the edge of the bed. She sat down slowly, brushing her fingers over the linens. "I dreamt about this place," she said quietly. "About coming back... but I didn't think I'd ever feel safe again."
He crouched before her, taking her hands in his. "You don't have to pretend with me. Not tonight."
Her eyes glistened, and she gave a shaky breath. "What if I never stop looking over my shoulder?"
