The next morning.
Claire finishes her makeup carefully, unhurried, as if today is no different from any other important occasion. She chooses her clothes with intention—nothing loud, nothing careless. When she opens the door and steps into the hallway, the door across from hers opens at the same time.
Ethan stands there in a tailored suit.
He looks sharp. Controlled. Immaculate, the way he always does.
And yet—up close, the details give him away.
Bloodshot eyes. Faint dark circles beneath them. A pallor that no amount of grooming can hide. He looks like someone who didn’t sleep. Or someone who tried and failed.
Claire, on the other hand, looks radiant.
Her skin glows. Her posture is relaxed. She looks alive, like a flower in full bloom, unapologetic in her color and presence.
Ethan
