Lia’s pov

The house was quiet, yet I was aware he wasn’t sleeping. I discovered him in the kitchen, seated at the table, with his fingers touching the edge of a half-filled glass. The faint light from the stove illuminated his face with a muted sheen, emphasizing the strain in his jaw and the silent turmoil in his gaze. He wasn't gazing at me, yet I was certain he sensed my presence. I took a seat in a chair opposite him, the sound of wood against tile disrupting the thick silence. He ...