Author's point of view
Lysander's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. The car sat still, the engine silent. His eyes— cool, calculating— stayed fixed ahead, then a quiet laugh slipped out of him, half-amused half-bewildered.
"What a stubborn little wife," he murmured, more to the windshield than at her.
He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing. "A month, right..?" His gaze cut sideways, catching the faint tremble of determination on Zerina's lips. He leaned closer, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. "Zerina Bradford, are you sure you don't want to start with baby steps— half a day, a day, maybe? A week? Two, at most?" The smile that followed his words was playfully wicked.
Zerina shook her head. "I'm sure."
Her voice was small but steady carrying an earnestness that
