I lingered in the shower longer than necessary, letting the steam cling to my skin as if it could hide me from the inevitable.
I didn't understand why everyone in my life was so determined to pour liquid tree bark down my throat.
Even thinking about it made the unbearable bitterness bloom across my tongue.
With a quiet ugh, I tipped my head back and let the warm spray rinse through my red hair, washing away sweat and the lingering scent of our afternoon workout.
By the time we reached the bedroom, my limbs felt heavy.
I leaned back against the headboard and stretched my legs over the duvet. Elara settled behind me, her long legs framing mine.
The hair dryer hummed to life.
Hot air threaded through my damp strands as her fingers combed gently through them, separating, lifting, and drying with slow precision.
Elara had developed this habit lately. Ever since the rut, she insisted on drying my hair herself.
