chapter 25
The city welcomed them back without ceremony. No crowds. No headlines screaming at the airport. Just glass walls, polished floors, and the muted hum of routine life resuming—as if the world had politely paused for their honeymoon and now pressed *play* again. Marilyn noticed it first. The way the air felt heavier. The way time moved faster. Their car slid through familiar streets, skyscrapers replacing palm trees, deadlines replacing sunsets. She watched reflections blur across the window, her fingers loosely entwined with Lucas’s. “Do you miss it already?” he asked softly. She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not the place. Just… the quiet.” Lucas squeezed her hand. “We’ll make our own.” And he meant it. He always did. --- Their penthouse smelled faintly of lemon po
- Writer
