Mara
We spent the rest of the day like two people trying to remember how to be around each other—watching movies, talking about everything and nothing. It was easy in a way I hadn’t expected. No pressure, no pretense.
When it was time to sleep, we settled on opposite edges of the bed like bookends—close, but untouched. And that’s exactly how we stayed until morning.
The next day, the sun spilled into the room warm and slow. Breakfast had been delivered, and we moved through our routines quietly. Peacefully.
Lucian walked out of the bathroom in shorts and a loose white shirt, half-buttoned. The soft fabric clung just enough to his chest to reveal the curve of a tattoo. He looked unfairly good—relaxed, confident, untouchable. I caught myself staring.
He caught me, too.
A half-smile cur
