Chapter 31

• The scent of lavender and sandalwood, a fragrance Cleo had chosen specifically to soothe her frayed nerves, hung in the air of their new haven. It was a small cottage, nestled away from the city's clamor, a world away from the opulent prison of her former life. Here, the walls didn't whisper secrets; they held the promise of a new beginning. The sun streamed through the large windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the golden light. Rowan watched Cleo, bathed in this ethereal glow, her face etched with a mixture of hope and trepidation. He knew rebuilding trust wouldn't be a sprint; it would be a marathon, a slow, painstaking process that demanded patience, vulnerability, and unwavering commitment.
• He approached her cautiously, his movements deliberate, conscious of the invisible walls that still existed between them. The memories of her husband's brutality, the fear that had haunted her eyes, were still fresh wounds. He had seen the scars, both visible and invisible, and knew he had a long way to go before he could truly erase the pain she had endured.
• "The coffee's ready," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the sound itself might shatter the fragile peace.