Hot water poured into the tub as Ava scrubbed off the night, layer by layer, pretending it didn't sting. Pretending it didn't hurt.
She slid into the bath, the heat wrapping around her like armor, and leaned her head back, eyes closed. It doesn't matter, she told herself. Let him play house with someone else. Let him embarrass me.
But the tears burned anyway. She refused to let them fall.
By the time she dried off, pulled on a satin robe, and sank into bed, her exhaustion outweighed her anger. Still mad—still fuming—but too tired to hold it up any longer, Ava fell asleep in silence, her back turned to the door.
A few minutes later, a gentle knock echoed outside her room. "My lady?" Adelle's voice was soft. She knocked again, then carefully pushed the door open with one hand and peeked inside, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.
But Ava was already curled beneath the covers, breathing slow and steady, her brows still faintly furrowed even in sleep.
