Adam and Sofia—together.
Not in public. Not for appearances. But in the small, sacred moments that no one else saw.
They shared breakfast in the quiet hush of morning—her coffee already poured, his eyes always finding hers first. They had dinner bathed in the amber glow of the dining room chandeliers—no longer two strangers trying to survive the same story, but two souls carefully writing a new one between silences and stolen glances.
Sometimes, Adam would appear at her office without a word of warning. A kiss to her temple. A firm hand at the small of her back. Takeout in one hand, a smirk in the other.
"You're mine," he'd murmur. "I don't share lunch with the world."
And Sofia?
She was glowing.
Even her staff noticed—the way her smile reached her eyes now, how her voice had softened, steadied. As though some part of her had finally exhaled.
It had been weeks since she moved into Adam's room. Into his bed. Into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to... home.
