Eleanor emerged from the bathing room, wrapped in a plush white robe, her damp hair tousled. She gently dried it with a small black towel, her eyes fixed on Ares. He lay motionless, but his steady breathing reassured her.
Twenty-four hours of unconsciousness had worried her, but she was assured he'd recover. She sat beside him, pushing her hair back to study his serene face.
The mansion's tranquil atmosphere, surrounded by woods, was the perfect refuge. Eleanor thought it best to keep them hidden, away from prying eyes and potential threats.
Her guilt dissipated, replaced by relief. Ares was resting, rehabilitating. Everything would be fine.
"How long will you sleep?" She whispered, her fingers tracing Ares' cheek. His heated skin sent shivers through her. "Did you feel this way when I slept all the time? Did you miss me?"
