Sonia’s POV
If someone had told me a few months ago that I would wake up to the sound of Alexander humming in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing one of the aprons wrong, I would’ve laughed until my stomach hurt. Yet there I was, leaning against the doorframe, watching him argue with the coffee machine as sunlight spilled through the window, softening every hard line on his face.
The mornings felt different now. Warmer. Quieter. Safe.
I used to dread mornings, they reminded me of everything I didn’t have: my parents’ laughter echoing through the halls, their gentle knocks on my door before breakfast, the smell of home. But now, there was something about waking up and hearing Alexander downstairs, his low, focused voice, the faint clatter of dishes, that filled the silence with something I
