His expression darkened slightly.
The thought lingered with him long after he got into his car and drove away.
Chapter 11 Pregnant
Juliet unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside.
The familiar scent of vanilla candles and freshly laundered sheets immediately greeted her.
The apartment was small and simple, but warm in a way that expensive places rarely were.
Soft cream-colored walls surrounded a cozy living room furnished with a light gray couch that had seen better days. A knitted blanket was carelessly draped over one armrest, while a small wooden coffee table sat in front of it, cluttered with magazines, a half-burned candle, and a few books she had never gotten around to finishing.
Near the window stood several potted plants, their green leaves stretching toward the sunlight that filtered through the white curtains. Most of them had been gifts from Amara over the years.
The open kitchen occupied one corner of the apartment. It was tiny, with white cabinets, a narrow countertop, and a refrigerator covered with colorful magnets, handwritten notes, and old photographs.
Beyond the living room was a modest bedroom containing a queen-sized bed covered with soft pastel bedding. A small vanity sat against one wall, crowded with skincare products, perfumes, and jewelry trays. Nearby, an overflowing bookshelf held novels, journals, and photo albums collected over the years.
Nothing about the apartment was luxurious.
There were no marble floors, crystal chandeliers, private elevators, or multimillion-dollar artwork decorating the walls.
Compared to Cassian’s mansion, the place was almost painfully ordinary.
Yet this place had once been her home.
Every corner carried memories.
Every piece of furniture had been chosen by her.
Closing the door behind her, Juliet stood silently for a moment before slowly looking around.
Her gaze traveled across the walls.
Photographs were everywhere.
Some were pictures of her with Amara. Others captured happy moments shared with close friends. But the overwhelming majority were photographs of her and Vincent.
The walls were practically covered with memories of him.
At one time, those pictures had filled her with happiness. She had smiled every time she looked at them. They had reminded her of countless memories she once treasured.
Now they made her stomach turn.
Disgust twisted violently inside her chest, so strong that she nearly felt sick.
Her eyes narrowed as they landed on one particular photograph hanging near the living room window.
In the picture, she was smiling brightly while Vincent stood beside her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders.
The sight immediately soured her mood.
"I can't believe I gave that asshole so much importance," she muttered bitterly.
A humorless laugh escaped her lips.
Shaking her head, she slowly looked around the apartment again.
