The living room buzzed with warmth, music, and the clinking of glasses. Laughter bounced off the marble walls—walls that once stood silent like a mausoleum.
Sofia lingered by the doorway, wide-eyed. Her friends had taken over the mansion like it was their natural habitat—Elise and Anne tangled in matching pajamas on the rug, Justin and Aron locked in a fierce debate about dessert choices, and Tristan reclining dramatically on the chaise lounge, tossing grapes into his mouth like a retired Roman general.
It was pure chaos. And right in the middle of it stood Adam—barefoot, sleeves rolled, shirt untucked, balancing a tray of drinks like it was the most natural thing in the world. His dark eyes found Sofia across the room, and even through the noise and energy, something quiet pulsed between them.
"Thank you," Sofia whispered, approaching him. "You didn't have to do all this."
