Simon’s lips parted as he watched Melva move around with ease, as if the house already belonged to her. She had taken a quick bath, changed into clean clothes, and was now humming softly while cooking dinner in his kitchen.

“What is it?” Melva asked, glancing over her shoulder. “Say what you want to say instead of staring at me suspiciously like that. You’re making me feel shy and embarrassed.”

Simon frowned. “You don’t look like someone who was beaten. It’s as if you ...