Irina
The drive to my father’s villa was a quiet one, filled only with the hum of the engine and the rhythmic bump of tires over the uneven country road. I sat in the back of the car, gazing out the window at the familiar scenery of my childhood. The tall iron gates loomed ahead, their intricate design as imposing as ever. Behind them stretched the estate I had once called home—a sprawling property with manicured gardens, fountains, and an air of cold elegance.
I hadn’t set foot here since the day I firm the marriage contract. Nostalgia tugged at me briefly, but it was faint, like a whisper. This wasn’t home anymore. Home was where Noah was, where his touch grounded me, where his voice softened the chaos of my mind. The thought of him made me clench my fists in determination. Whatever my
