"I don't want to go home," Natalia pouted, sinking deeper into the dining chair as if the room—and Adam—belonged to her. Her nails tapped idly against the porcelain teacup, a subtle rhythm meant to draw his eyes back to her.
Adam didn't look.
Instead, he poured her tea with steady hands, though the act was more for himself than for her. The steam curled upward, warm and calming, but it did nothing to quiet the restless pull in his chest. Upstairs, somewhere in this house, Sofia was back. He could feel it—like the air itself had shifted when she walked through the door.
He had to fight the urge to get up and find her.
He set the teapot down with a soft clink and finally met Natalia's gaze. "Natalia… Sofia's here now. We shouldn't make things more complicated."
Her lips curved, not in amusement but challenge. "Complicated for who?"
