Steam drifted out of the bathroom as Marian opened the door, a cloud of warmth following her into the cooler hotel room. Her hair was damp, curling softly at the ends, and she wore a simple robe the hotel provided—thick, white, too big for her frame. She tightened the belt instinctively when she saw Daniel standing by the window.
He hadn’t moved far from where she left him, as if he didn’t trust himself to. His hands were in his pockets again, shoulders broad but a little slumped, like the emotional weight of the night before still pressed on him.
He turned when he heard her steps.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. It wasn’t awkward—just careful. Fragile. Like they were stepping across a bridge still being built beneath their feet.
“You look… better,” Daniel said quietly, eyes soft.
