By the time Alex finally got home, exhaustion had caught up with her completely, and it showed — dark circles under her eyes, dry lips, her whole body heavy. All she wanted was to collapse into bed and let sleep carry her somewhere pleasant, somewhere far away from the accumulated weight of the past two days.
That morning she'd felt genuinely fine; Eliott's breakfast had worked wonders. Now, though, she was quietly regretting the decision to spend the entire day on her feet, wondering how she'd managed to overestimate her own recovery this badly.
Entering her room, she drifted straight to the terrace out of pure habit — and there he was, exactly as she'd hoped, standing like a Michelangelo sculpture, gazing peacefully up at the moon.
Eliott had been waiting there for several minutes already. He'd known she'd come back worn out, and he wanted to see for himself that she was alright — though one look at her confirmed just how tired she really was.
