Mia takes the clothes bag into the bathroom and closes the door.
She stands at the mirror for a moment—slightly pink cheeks, hair loose, the look of someone who slept well despite everything and would prefer not to examine why too closely.
She runs cold water over her wrists, straightens up, and begins methodically removing items from the bag.
A white camisole. A soft apricot cardigan, V-neck, cashmere-weight.
She changes, pins her hair up loosely, lets a few pieces fall at her neck. Checks herself once in the mirror. Good enough.
When she comes out, Elias is already back with a tray—coffee, honey water, something that smells like eggs and toast and a pastry she hasn't earned but will eat anyway.
He sets it on the low table without ceremony, like this is simply what mornings look lik
