Chapter Eighty

Marcella slowly stirred from the depths of unconsciousness, her senses returning in fits and starts. At first, there was only a vague awareness of warmth and comfort, as if she had been cocooned in a soothing embrace. Then, as her consciousness sharpened, her eyelids fluttered as she transitioned from the depths of unconsciousness to a hazy awareness.

Her surroundings felt familiar, and it took a moment for her to piece together where she was. The soft, muted light filtering into the room, the subtle hum of a ceiling fan, the comforting scent of fresh linen—all these sensory fragments coalesced into a realisation.

She was in Lucas's apartment.

As her vision cleared, she turned her head slightly, a dull ache thudding in her temples, and there, at her side, was Lucas his handsome face etched with worry as he sat perched on the edge of a nearby chair. A shiver of recognition rippled through her as memories flooded back. He seemed to be lost in thought as there was a sad and solemn dispo