Sophia’s P.O.V

The bathroom was warm, wrapped in steam and silence, the sound of the blow dryer humming softly in the background as I stood in front of the mirror in Nathan’s bathrobe—thick, soft, and oversized, the scent of his cologne woven deep into the fabric. I could smell him on me. Clean sandalwood, something spicy and warm, like cinnamon and cedar. It clung to my skin as if he had marked me in his own invisible way, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.

My ...