hina'

for sixt

e had changed them while I slept, the gauze crisp and white, wrapped with practiced precision. A breakfast tray sat on the nig

e last time someone ha

the door. Gentle. Two

me

was not what I'd p

han deprivation. He had quiet eyes-dark, watchful, the kind of eyes that saw everything

e was allowed to cross the threshold. A small

k." His voice was low and even

nd

ike you've been

outh almost lifted

rs on the dresser. He didn't sit on the bed. He didn't crowd me. He just stood t

at the contract says. I know you ran from it six years ago, a

to deflect, to test, to look for the hidden blade. "Six y

e, but I caught it-a depth of feeling held car

he peonies are from my mother's garden. She's been tending them for six yea

fore I cou

, soft as silk. The faint, sweet scent drifting acros

at I wanted. Not what flower I liked. Not what I dreamed a

man who'd remem

d never