Brielle’s POV
There was a knock at the door. Not the sharp, impatient kind that demanded attention. This one was soft. Almost hesitant.
I paused at the top of the stairs, still in my hoodie and pajama pants, hair damp from the shower. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and Gregory had left for the city hours ago.
The knock came again. Three gentle taps.
I felt it before I saw him—some echo in my chest, like a tuning fork struck too hard. The part of me that had tried so hard to stay quiet suddenly vibrated with awareness.
When I opened the door, there he was.
Adrian.
Drenched from the rain, hair slicked back, holding the guitar case like it was both an offering and a question.
He didn’t speak right away. Just looked at me like he was waiting for me to slam the door. Or cry. Or scream.
I d
