THIRD PERSON’s POV
Lorenzo came home early that day.
His steps were heavy, deliberate, as if he carried something invisible and crushing. When he appeared in the doorway, his face was pale, eyes shadowed with a sadness that looked like it had settled in hours ago.
He was bracing himself for what was to come next.
In the sitting room, Adrienne was curled into the corner of an armchair, legs tucked beneath her, a book open in her lap.
The late afternoon light slanted through the tall windows, catching the edges of her hair. She didn’t look up when he entered, but he felt the subtle shift in her posture, the way her thumb paused on the edge of the page.
“So,” he said softly, voice low and careful. “How was your day?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
He nodded, as though the single word confirm
