ANASTASIA’S POV

Dinner was over, Isaac stood and began clearing the table, stacking the plates. I stayed where I was with my chin propped in my hand and just… watching him.

There was something strangely intimate about it. The way he moved, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he ran the water and washed the dishes. The soft sounds of clinking glass and running water filled the space, mingling with the faint hum of the music still playing.

Every now and then, he glanced over his ...