Vivienne had never felt more alive. Her master's was complete, her savings were enough to start living independently, and she recently got a job. She moved through her day humming, chopping, stirring, arranging, savoring the freedom she had worked so hard for.
Occasionally, she glanced at Grayson. He was there, quiet, composed, seemingly indifferent. She assumed nothing had changed, unaware of how deeply he was noticing her.
Grayson, meanwhile, watched her, heart tightening with every small gesture. The way she smiled, the confidence in her movements, the way she owned her independence — it all carved a hollow in him he could not deny. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay distant. It's nothing. I can control it.