The silver glow of the full moon poured into their chamber, illuminating Nicole as she stood before the mirror. Her reflection revealed the traditional tribal attire she hadn't worn in years—a woven garment of beads and feathers that left much of her body exposed. Her small baby bump was barely concealed by the intricate designs, and her bronzed skin gleamed in the soft light.
Sitting on the stool, she began braiding her hair with skilled fingers, her mind drifting to the ceremony ahead. It was her first time attending in years, and though she felt a surge of pride in reclaiming her roots, a part of her hesitated. She thought of Clarice, likely preparing in a nearby room, and felt a small smile tug at her lips.
But her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet sound of the chamber door opening. She didn't need to look to know who it was. The air shifted, heavy with his presence, as Jasper stepped into the room. His footsteps were soft, but his intensity was palpable.
