After getting home, Celeste casually set the trophy down on the bedroom cabinet. She glanced at Ethan out of habit and asked, "Do you want to shower first?"
As soon as their eyes met, she suddenly remembered-his leg wasn't actually injured.
"Uh... you can shower on your own, right? Then maybe you..."
Her voice was a bit hoarse and raspy, still sore.
"If we're keeping up the act, might as well go all in," Ethan said flatly, expression unreadable. "Go run the bath."
Celeste tightened her fingers without realizing it, nerves creeping up out of nowhere.
The things he'd said at her office a week ago-those words were like a hazy dream, too distant to be clear, but too stubborn to forget. She'd even considered asking if that day really happened or if she'd imagined it all.
