(Sanya's POV)
One evening, we sit by the fireplace, and the warmth spreads through the small cottage like a gentle embrace, nothing like the cold, suffocating atmosphere of the Stone mansion where every corner held a memory of pain and humiliation, and I find myself relaxing in a way I haven't been able to in months, my shoulders dropping, my breath coming easier, the crackling of the flames the only sound breaking the comfortable silence that stretches between us.
Aaron—still in Tyron's body, though I've learned to see past the face I once feared and hated to find the soul of the man I loved beneath—sits across from me, his eyes reflecting the firelight, and there's something peaceful about this moment, something almost sacred in its simplicity, just the two of us in this little cottage
