The room was engulfed in tranquility, illuminated by the soft glow of night lamps.
Claire Prescott lifted the blanket and took a breath, trapped in a whirlwind of internal conflict.
To help or not to help...
Given that she was pondering this, clearly, she was leaning toward the former. Yet, she lacked the courage to confront him openly, let alone touch him there.
But then...
They were a couple now, and she did like him a lot.
Besides, she wasn't really that... conservative.
The bedroom door was half-open, and the bright light from the living room streamed in, as if some magical force was pulling her toward it. She found herself stepping out of bed, donned in slippers, and slowly approached the bathroom outside.
She paused at the bathroom door.
The faint sound of running water from within made her heartbeat a little erratic.
After mustering up the courage, she knocked on the door.
Yet, with just that light knock, without much force, did the door just open on its own?
