The rain had not stopped since morning, casting the city in a somber rhythm of droplets against glass. Inside the spacious apartment Adrian had rented for Leviana’s recovery, the air smelled faintly of herbal tea and disinfectant. Leviana sat curled on the sofa, her pale cardigan draped loosely over her shoulders, her features arranged into practiced fragility.

Adrian set a tray on the coffee table: a bowl of porridge, steamed vegetables, and tea. His tie hung loose, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

“Eat something,” he urged, his tone softer than he intended.

Leviana lifted her gaze to him, eyes shimmering with carefully measured gratitude. “You’ve done so much already, Adrian....