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AUTHOR’S POV
Sloane was sitting comfortably in the living room, nestled into the soft cushions of the old beige sofa that had been a fixture for as long as she could remember.
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the large bay window, casting warm golden streaks across the hardwood floor.
A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table in front of her, steam still faintly rising from its surface, mingling with the faint scent of lavender that lingered in the room.
She was flipping absentmindedly through a magazine, her mind drifting between thoughts of her upcoming wedding and the quiet peace of the moment, when the familiar creak of the front door broke her reverie.
She soon heard her uncle’s deep, gravelly voice echoing from the hallway.
“Sloane, you in there?”
