When love strikes
Anna
Weary, I stumbled into our shared space, my mind cluttered with the weight of overdue assignments.
A groan slipped out, evidence of the fatigue from juggling university tasks and this newfound marriage.
Opting to wash off the stress, I shuffled to the bathroom.
The water's calming flow offered a temporary break, but upon emerging, a subtle realization hit me. One room had transformed, stripped down to just a bed and a note.
Approaching cautiously, curiosity got the best of me. The note, unmistakably Davis Howard's, had its share of quirks.
Bab Populer