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The Taste of Freedom

Author: Bree
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-05-17 19:26:43

Reina’s POV

The Next Morning

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in pale gold. I blinked awake to the quiet hum of the city stirring outside and the faint aroma of something familiar — coffee and something sizzling.

Roman was already up.

I sat up slowly, muscles stiff but mind surprisingly calm. The nightmare storm in my chest had settled, replaced by a cautious hope.

Pulling the blanket tighter around me, I padded quietly to the living room, where I found him in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a worn apron tied around his waist. He stood at the stove, flipping eggs with a practiced ease, the morning light catching the sharp angles of his face and turning his dark hair into a halo.

It was ridiculous how much my heart melted watching him there — so domestic, so real, so utterly different from the cold, hard cop I’d seen in that interrogation room yesterday.

He caught my gaze and offered a lopsided smile, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
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