The first morning as Alexander's wife dawn colder than I expected. The sprawling windows in the bedroom let in the gray light of the early hour, but it's the unfamiliarity that wakes me more than anything. Everything about this place feels strange—the silence, the stillness, the way the air carries the faintest hint of cedarwood and something sharper, something uniquely Alexander.
I push the heavy comforter aside and swing my feet onto the polished hardwood floor. For a moment, I just sit there, my fingers brushing the ring on my left hand. It catches the light, a gleaming reminder of yesterday—the vows we spoke, the papers we signed, the life I agreed to step into. A marriage of convenience, I remind myself. Nothing more. But the weight of it lingers.
The sound of soft footsteps in the hall breaks my reverie. Before I can decide whether to move, there's a knock at the door.
"Sophia?" Alexander's voice is quiet but firm, just like always. "May I come in?"
