Elias Grayson:
2 Years Later.
I was in the kitchen, the warm glow of the evening lights bouncing off the countertops, the faint aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. I had just started cutting chicken breasts, my knife moving rhythmically, thinking about how peaceful our life had become over the past two years.
Our house wasn't huge, but it was ours—ours to laugh in, to bicker in, to live in without worrying about what anyone else thought. The quiet hum of the kitchen contrasted perfectly with the chaos of our past, now a distant memory. And in this calm, familiar space, I felt… content. Safe. Loved.
I heard the familiar swish of movement behind me before Aurelian's arms wrapped around my waist, his chest pressing against my back.
