"It's not about a dollhouse, Darain. It's about a childhood stolen, a name stripped away. You don't understand what it's like to lose everything."
Darain, his anger rising, retorted, "You think I don't know how to lose everything? Are you mad?
I lo...
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Third person pov:
The next day, Seraphine awoke, her surroundings unfamiliar.
As she surveyed the environment, a sudden realization struck—she was in his home.
Memories of the previous night flooded back, starting with the car ride and culminating in the sensation of falling asleep.
Taking in her surroundings, she noticed the weight around her stomach and slowly comprehended that she was in his bed, nestled within the circle of his arms.
The realization brought a mixture of confusion and intrigue, leaving her to grapple with the complexity of emotions that unfolded with the morning light.
Sera's Pov:
As I stirred awake, unfamiliar surroundings greeted me, and a flood of memories from the previous night unraveled.
The realization that I was in his home settled in, and I cautiously acknowledged the comforting weight around my stomach.
In that moment, Darian's arms encircling me provided an unexpected sense of solace, but vulnerability lingered beneath the surface.
Gently extricating myself, I observed him still asleep, and a subtle curiosity played in my thoughts.
Opting to let him rest, I quietly slipped out of the room, leaving the remnants of the night to linger in the quiet spaces between us.
I decided to prepare breakfast, and as Darian woke up and came downstairs, a curious expression adorned his face.
Ignoring the weight of his previous vows, I looked at him and asked, "Hey, what would you like?"
In that moment, a subtle determination took root within me—I was determined to transform his hatred into something unexpected, something akin to love.
His gaze bore into me as if I had sprouted horns, a visible disbelief in his eyes .
"Knowing your culinary skills, probably something I won't like."
The words held a mixture of skepticism and amusement, revealing the underlying tension and a subtle acknowledgment of the unconventional dynamics at play between us.
A smile tugged at my lips as he recalled the last incident when I unintentionally burned the pancakes.
The fact that he remembered, and even ate them to make me happy, hinted at a layer of understanding beneath the surface of our complex relationship.
The recollection of that shared memory, with a trace of amusement in Darian's eyes, unexpectedly gave me hope.
In that subtle acknowledgment of our past interactions, I glimpsed the potential for a connection beyond the predetermined roles we found ourselves in.
