Rhett’s POV:
It was already very late.
The villa was overly quiet. The garden lights were on, their soft glow spreading along the path. I stood outside Aria’s door with a cup of freshly heated milk in my hand, still able to feel the warmth through the glass.
I raised my hand and knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
There was no response from inside.
I frowned slightly. At this hour, she shouldn’t be sleeping that deeply.
I tried pushing the door—it wasn’t locked. It opened with a gentle nudge.
The moment the door cracked open, I saw her standing in front of the window.
Her white nightdress fell below her knees. She looked slender, fragile, her back to me. The night outside streamed in, almost blending her into the shifting light and shadow.
“Aria,” I called softly.
No response.
