"I am not bathing with you today," he says, his voice firm and resolute, before turning and retracing his steps towards the hotel room.
His words emerged with a determined clarity, cutting through the air like a sharp blade. The firmness in his voice left no room for negotiation or ambiguity as he expressed his decision. With a resolute turn, he began making his way back towards the hotel bathroom, each step carrying a sense of purpose and finality. The weight of his declaration hung in the air, leaving behind a palpable sense of separation, a boundary firmly drawn.
Stepping into the bathroom, I reach for the door to shut it behind me, but just as it begins to swing closed, a hand unexpectedly appears, forcefully halting its progress. Confused, I tilt my head, my brows furrowing in respo
