Seraphina POV She heard his office door close. Stood in the corridor for a moment after. Then she went upstairs. She showered quickly the good kind, the kind that washed the day off properly. Changed into something simple. Dark jeans, a soft cream top that Camille had picked and she'd grown to love for its particular quality of being comfortable without looking like she'd given up. She looked at herself in the mirror. Pressed her hand briefly to her stomach. "Dinner," she told the baby. The baby offered no objection. She went downstairs. She didn't know why she cooked. Or she did know — she just didn't examine it too carefully. Cooking was the thing she did when she wanted to do something real with her hands. When the day had been full of performed things and she needed one genuine one. She went through his kitchen with the confidence of someone who had been learning it quietly for weeks which cupboard held which, which burner ran hot, where the good pan was kept rather t
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