Serena’s POV The alarm on my phone buzzes softly from the nightstand, pulling me from a dream where I'm arranging bolts of silk in endless rows. I reach out, my arm heavy like it's filled with sand, and silence it with a tap. The room is still dim, the early morning light just starting to peek around the edges of the heavy curtains Roman hung last summer. He said they would block out the street noise, and they do, but this morning, I wish for a bit more brightness to jolt me awake. I lie there, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above. Normally, by now, I'd be up, feet hitting the cool hardwood floor, heading to the kitchen for a quick cup of coffee before diving into the day. But today, my body refuses to move. It's as if every muscle has decided to stage a quiet rebellion, pinning me down under the soft weight of the duvet. I blink a few times, willing myself to sit up, but a wave of tiredness crashes over me, deeper than any late night at the shop has ever caused. The s
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