Serafina
Amelia buzzed me up. This wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a betrayal. It was a conversation I should have had years ago, before everything turned into orders and optics and rings that felt more like handcuffs.
The door opened before I could knock. Amelia glanced down the hall, then tugged me inside and shut the deadbolt.
“You’re fine,” she said, quick and calm. “He’s in the living room.”
“I look a mess,” I muttered, smoothing my coat.
“You look like you,” she said, softer now. “I’ll be in my room. Call if you need me.” She squeezed my hand once and faded down the short hall.
I turned—and he stepped out from behind the couch.
“Serafina.”
My throat tightened. “Hey.”
We stood there for a beat. His hands lifted, giving me room to step back. I didn’t. He pulled me in, carefu
