Amara’s POV.

After a tiring day of shopping, we finally arrived home. I removed my boots and stepped into our bedroom, feeling drained. We had just returned from the mall, but Damien went straight to his office.

I let out a deep breath and collapsed onto the bed. My gaze landed on the painting hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of Damien, and even in the painting, he looked handsome and regal. He was always the epitome of glorious.

How can someone be this perfect? Does that even make sense?

My brow furrowed as I remembered the event for tomorrow, and my gaze was drawn to the calendar...