Early the next morning, Adrian brought Vivian back to the villa.
The house had been completely remodeled to suit her tastes.
Even the single white rose Ivy used to place in a vase every morning had long since withered on the table. He reached out to touch it, and a dried petal fell into his palm.
"Adrian, I want you to make me breakfast." Vivian curled up on the sofa and spoke in a coy voice.
He turned to look at her and realized he couldn't remember Ivy ever asking the same of him.
Probably not.
Whenever he woke, breakfast was already waiting on the table. She would poke her head in and ask if he wanted more milk. At his answer, she'd smile and go pour it. Even at mealtimes, she always asked what he wanted before thinking of herself.
"Adrian, are you even listening to me?" Vivian c
