That night was wildly unrestrained. They were like free-roaming beasts on a desolate plain—untethered, uninhibited, surrendering completely to the most primal form of life.'As the soul's desire is the harbinger of fate,' she thought faintly, sinking deeper into passion, 'the soul, at its closest, brushes against freedom itself.'And Francesco… was part of that freedom.The next day, Adriana slowly woke in the late morning, her body aching faintly all over. It was already past noon.She heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Slipping on her slippers, she walked over and peeked in.Francesco was wearing an apron, cooking.She leaned against the glass sliding door, quietly watching him.So this was what happiness looked like—having the person you loved beside you, steam rising gently from the pot, and lush green life thriving outside the window.Such small happiness… was not easy to come by. At least, she hadn't truly obtained it yet.Lost in thought, she didn't notice the glass
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