583: NOT THE SAME

ARIEL'S POV The following morning, I awoke with a pounding headache. It was as if my brain was trying to punish me for the emotional turmoil of the previous night. Sighing, I trudged into the kitchen, the scent of coffee and freshly baked bread filling my nostrils. I began to prepare breakfast, putting together an extravagant spread fit for royalty. I laid out exotic fruits, smoked salmon, and freshly squeezed orange juice. As I set the table, I couldn’t help but imagine Luke and I sitting together, laughing and talking as we enjoyed this meal. But, of course, that fantasy was quickly shattered as I heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen. Luke stepped into the room, his face drawn and tired. His eyes were shadowed, and I could tell that he hadn’t slept much the night before. "Good morning," I said, trying to sound cheerful despite the heaviness in my heart. Luke grunted in response, making a beeline for the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup, not even sparing