Morning came softly, the kind of morning that should have promised peace.
Golden light spilled through the kitchen windows as Eve moved quietly between the counter and the stove. The house was warm, the air filled with the scent of eggs sizzling and butter melting, the gentle scrape of a wooden spoon against the pan. Her hair was tied loosely, her thin robe brushing her thighs as she moved with a small, domestic grace that felt almost unreal after the storm of the previous evening.
It had been a long night, emotionally heavy, intense, intimate, and though her body still ached from the way Ryan had held her, loved her, carried her upstairs, her spirit felt steady. She hummed softly under her breath, cracking another egg into the pan.
Then,
A violent banging shattered the quiet.
Three s
