When Kairo suggested a camping trip, Arielle thought at first that she’d misheard him.
“Camping?” she repeated, her tone light but careful.
“Yes,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning. Stay overnight.”
The suggestion caught her off guard. He didn’t do spontaneous. He didn’t do nature. Kairo’s world was marble floors, sharp suits, and glass towers — not dirt trails and tents.
For a brief moment, Arielle considered refusing. But she knew better.
Refusing would raise questions she couldn’t afford.
So she smiled faintly and said, “Alright. Camping it is.”
Inside, though, she was already recalculating.
If Kairo wanted this trip, she’d have to play along. The more convincingly she acted like a dutiful wife — relaxed, compliant,
