CHAPTER THIRTY ONE: UNDER THE CHANDELIER

Layla Pov

Our dinnertime routine has become a reassuring rhythm in my life, so I joined Dario. One of the highlights of my day had become our morning car rides in his slate-gray SUV, during which we would joke about his taco fixation or Mia's newest glittery maths sheets. These dinners, which were now held in the estate's dining room, which grew warmer every night, felt like a haven from the outside world. My choice for tonight was a lavender dress, whose delicate pastel folds reflected the sunshine streaming through the big windows, creating prisms on the cloth. It was a change from my typical cream blouses, a tiny act of bravery that reflected our increasing comfort level.

As I sat down across from Dario, who was wearing a clean white shirt with his sleeves rolled up and his wheelchair blending in perfectly with the little space, my loose hair touched my shoulders. A cocoon was created by the delicate brightness of the chandelier, its prisms dancing on my clothing, the flickering o