Author's POV

The silence in the kitchen was a comfortable, familiar thing, a domestic calm that had become the new rhythm of Elara’s life. Sunlight, bright and sharp, streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the pristine marble countertops and catching the dust motes dancing in the air. A low, contented hum filled the space, the gentle sound of Elara tidying up, wiping down the surfaces after their quiet breakfast. It was a simple, mundane task, a stark contrast to the opulence of the penthouse, and she found a strange sense of peace in it.