ONE HOUR LATER
The door to the bathroom clicked open gently.
Lucian stepped out, fully dressed in a clean white shirt and dark trousers, his hair still slightly damp, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and though his face had lost that earlier flush, he looked tired, like someone who had fought off something heavy.
Georgia stood quietly by the window, arms folded. Her red gown was no longer soaked, but it clung softly to her frame, the bottom still damp. She hadn’t left. She didn’t speak right away.
Lucian looked at her, his gaze calm now and steady.
Their eyes met.
Georgia was the first to speak, her voice quiet. “How are you feeling now?”
Lucian gave a small nod. “I’m fine. Clear-headed.”
He rubbed the back of his neck for a second,
