ARIA
The afternoon light filtered through the windows, softer now as the storm continued its relentless assault on the city.
We'd spent hours looking at houses, talking about the future, planning a life that still felt surreal in its possibility.
But now my body was reminding me of everything it had been through.
The tension. The panic attack. The lack of proper rest.
I shifted on the couch and winced as my lower back protested.
"What's wrong?" Kael asked immediately, his attention snapping to me.
"Nothing. Just sore."
"Where?"
"Everywhere, honestly. My back. My shoulders. Everything feels tight."
He was already standing, moving toward the bedroom. "Come here."
"Kael, I'm fine—"
"Come here, Aria."
There was no arguing with that tone.
I followed him into the bedroom, where he was already pulling back the covers and grabbing something from the bathroom.
Massage oil.
Of course the suite would have massage oil.
"Lie down," he said. "On your stomach."
