The morning light crept through the blinds, casting faint golden stripes across the room. Alina stirred first, her head still resting on Adrian’s shoulder. Their fingers were loosely intertwined, a fragile connection that contradicted the storm brewing inside her heart.
She carefully pulled her hand away, not wanting to wake him. But as she stood, his voice—low and rough from sleep—stopped her in her tracks.
“Leaving already?” Adrian’s eyes were half-lidded, but sharp.
Alina froze. She didn’t want to talk—not yet. She needed space to think, to process everything: the photo, Jake’s words, Adrian’s confession—or lack thereof.
“I need coffee,” she muttered, walking out without another word.
Adrian found her in the kitchen a few minutes later, leaning against the counter, her coffee mug t
