Sofia didn't sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows dancing across the ceiling, her mind replaying Natalia's voice until the words felt carved into her ribs. You told me I was your forever.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adam's face in the garden—his warmth, his hunger, the way he'd kissed her like he meant it—followed by that same face, shadowed and unreadable when Natalia's memory had been thrown between them like a weapon.
By midnight, the air in her room felt too thick, the sheets too heavy. She pushed them away, slipped on her robe, and stepped into the hall. The house was silent, the kind of silence that made every creak of the floorboards sound louder. She moved toward the kitchen, needing water—needing space from the thoughts clawing at her.
And then she stopped.
Adam was there.
