(Asher's pov)
The penthouse was bathed in the soft glow of morning sunlight, and for once, I allowed myself a moment of quiet before the storm of the day began. The apartment felt emptier than usual without her stirring through the halls, humming to herself or moving with the careful grace that always made my pulse catch. Today, I was the one moving for her—for her comfort, her sense of normalcy, the small comfort she deserved after yesterday.
I worked with deliberate care in the kitchen, cracking eggs, whisking them to a perfect consistency, frying them just long enough for a golden edge, slicing fresh fruit with precision. I arranged the plate neatly on the table, even aligning the toast slices with their crusts parallel, a detail she would notice because she always did. And then I lef
