Alicia’s POV

Everything here was soft, still, and too perfect. The air smelled faintly of essential oils and over-clean surfaces. Even the silence felt managed. I sat curled up on the velvet couch, flipping through the same fashion magazine I’d read at least three times this week.

Routine. Diet. Exercise. Clean food, clean mind. Lucas’s version of therapy was starting to feel more like a luxury rehab crossed with a silent retreat. I got the point. Reset the ...