Chapter 6: Accidental Kiss

The next morning, Seraphina stepped out of the bedroom early.

She stretched lightly, blinking away the remnants of sleep—only to pause when she noticed Lucien.

He was still asleep on the small sofa, curled slightly on his side, wrapped awkwardly in a thin blanket. Even then, it was obvious he was cold. His brows were faintly furrowed, one arm tucked beneath his head like a makeshift pillow.

Seraphina smiled unconsciously.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night before.

Last night, the two of them had been sitting side by side on the sofa, a bowl of popcorn between them, the television glowing softly in the dim apartment.

They didn't talk much.

They just watched.

Occasionally, their hands brushed when they reached for popcorn, and both pretended not to notice. The movie ended before either of them realized how late it had gotten.

Seraphina glanced at the clock.

"Eleven already?"

Lucien followed her gaze and froze.

"…Right," he said slowly.

Silence followed.

Then came the unspoken realization.

There was only one bed.

Seraphina cleared her throat. "I'll sleep on the sofa."

Lucien immediately shook his head. "No. You take the bedroom."

"I'm fine on the sofa."

"So am I."

They stared at each other.

"I'm the guest."

"You're wearing a wedding dress."

"That's not an argument."

Lucien stood up first. "I'm sleeping here."

At the same time, Seraphina stood as well.

But the moment she did, her foot slipped on the edge of the rug.

She gasped—and grabbed at the nearest thing.

Lucien.

He lost his balance.

They both fell back onto the sofa.

For a split second, everything stopped.

Their faces were too close.

Too close.

Their lips brushed—soft, accidental, fleeting.

Seraphina's breath caught.

Lucien froze.

Then he bolted upright as if struck by lightning.

"I—" he started.

"I—" she said at the same time.

Neither finished.

Seraphina stood up abruptly. "I'll— I'll go to the bedroom."

She turned stiffly and walked away, every step too precise, too mechanical. At the door, she hesitated, touched her cheek unconsciously, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

Lucien remained seated.

Staring.

Slowly, he raised a hand to his lips.

Then, flustered, he lay down, turned his back to the room, and pulled the blanket over himself.

Back in the present, Seraphina stood in the quiet living room, one hand pressed lightly against her lips.

Her expression was blank—yet distant.

She shook her head gently, as if trying to clear the memory, then turned and headed into the bathroom.

The door closed softly behind her.

...

A few hours later, the two of them sat at the small dining table, eating breakfast.

The atmosphere was… awkward.

Neither of them mentioned what had happened the night before, yet both were painfully aware of it. Lucien focused a little too much on his food. Seraphina stirred her coffee longer than necessary.

Finally, she spoke.

"I need to go back to the Hawthorne villa."

Lucien paused mid-bite.

She glanced down at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing—clearly his. "I have to get my things."

Lucien frowned slightly. "I'll go with you."

Seraphina shook her head. "There's no need."

"They won't make things difficult for you?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

She smiled faintly. "I'll be fine. I won't stay long."

Lucien didn't look convinced. "You just walked out on them yesterday. Publicly."

"That's exactly why they won't do anything stupid," she replied calmly. "Not yet."

He leaned back slightly. "Still. I don't like the idea of you going alone."

Seraphina met his gaze. "Lucien," she said gently, "this is something I need to do myself."

After a moment, she added, "I'll be back soon."

Lucien sighed. "Call me if anything feels off."

"I will."

He hesitated, then asked quietly, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Seraphina smiled—this time more sincerely. "Don't worry. I've already survived worse."

They exchanged a brief look before she stood up, grabbed her bag, and headed for the door.

Lucien watched her leave, unease lingering in his chest long after the door closed.

...

When Seraphina arrived at the Hawthorne villa, the air felt heavy the moment she stepped inside.

She hadn't even taken two steps past the doorway when a sharp voice echoed through the hall.

"So you still dare to come back?"

Seraphina stopped.

Slowly, she looked up.

Her adoptive mother's furious voice rang out again—louder, colder, and filled with restrained rage.