Adria’s POV
I sat tucked into the corner booth of Velvet Brew, the quiet little coffee shop downtown that always smelled like caramel and fresh pastries. It reminded me of home. Mum liked to bake a lot.
Drizzling rain streaked the tall windows, soft gray light illuminated the room and all the wooden tables, but my corner was dark. It was the perfect hiding spot for all my confessions. No one could hear what I say here except my best friend Koko.
Koko sat across from me, nursing a cappuccino, her sharp eyes studying my face like she could read every unspoken worry.
“Eight months, Koko,” I said, stirring my oat milk latte even though it had gone lukewarm. “We’ve been married eight months and it feels like the fire just… disappeared. At night he comes to my bed—we sleep in separate rooms
