The soft morning light peeked through the tall kitchen windows as Lucy stood by the counter, flipping eggs in a pan. She wore a loose t-shirt and soft pajama pants, her feet bare on the cold marble floor. The quiet hum of the fridge and the sizzle of butter were the only sounds in the room.
It was one of those rare moments where she felt calm. No guards. No noise. Just the smell of food and a bit of peace.
She plated the eggs and toasted bread, humming quietly to herself.
Then heels clicked against the floor.
Lucy froze, the hair on her neck standing up.
She turned slowly.
Barry’s fiancée strolled into the kitchen like it belonged to her. Her makeup was fresh, even this early. Her lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer.
Lucy turned back to her breakfast without sayin
