Rafael discovered, over the course of exactly three days, that 'compromise' was a word Gregoris respected the way he respected decorative pillows: as a concept that existed in other people's homes.
Which was how they ended up with two nurseries.
Not a 'main room and an annex.' Not 'one nursery with two vibes,' the lie Rafael had tried to sell himself. Two actual rooms, two doors, and two finished spaces sitting side by side like a marriage counseling outcome nobody had asked for.
Rafael's room was the one he could breathe in. Warm, soft, and gentle without looking washed. Cream that didn't feel like oatmeal propaganda. Pastels that didn't look tired because Gregoris had bullied them into being slightly richer, slightly deeper, like even colors had to prove they could survive winter.
