The next morning was golden and warm, sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains of Nora’s guest bedroom. Amelia lay there, awake long before the birds began their gentle morning chorus. Her eyes traced the ceiling as if it held the answers she hadn’t found the night before.
There was no Enzo here.
No electric tension threading the air. No sudden grip on her waist. No breath on her neck at midnight. No piercing eyes demanding her truth and hiding his.
Just peace.
Just the hum of a life that didn’t revolve around secrets or punishments or passion so wild it left her raw.
And yet… her chest ached.
She dragged herself out of bed and padded barefoot down the hallway to the kitchen where Nora was already up, coffee brewing, sunlight spilling over the breakfast table like a blessing.
“
