Emma's Point of view
The sizzle of butter melting on the skillet and the aroma of fresh bread filled the air as I danced through the kitchen, letting the upbeat rhythm of the music on the sound system take over. I wasn’t just making breakfast; I was putting on a show, twirling the spatula in one hand and shaking my hips like I was headlining a concert. The final note of the song played, and I struck an exaggerated pose, laughing at myself.
"Bravo!"
The sound of clapping made me whip around, nearly dropping the spatula. Adrian stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame with a sly grin plastered across his face.
“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, cheeks flaming as I tried to feign nonchalance.
“Long enough to see Adele's long-lost twin in action,” he teased,
