Naomi's POV

I awoke to the aroma of coffee wafting through the corridor. It wasn't the exquisite blend we had ordered during our vacation — merely the standard rich roast that Martha prepared each morning. Yet, it somehow felt like returning home.

I propped myself up in bed, the sheet sliding off my shoulder. Raymond had already left — his side of the bed was warm but vacant, his pillow indented where his head had lain throughout the night, right beside mine.

I stretched leisurely, ...