Christian's pulse races, his back pressed firmly against the cold tile wall of the bathroom stall. Marilena's breath brushes against his lips, and for a second, neither of them moves. His hands instinctively rest on her waist, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. The space between them seems to disappear, and the tension is electric.
Outside the stall, they can still hear Solara and the others talking. Their voices are muffled, but clear enough to make Marilena's heart race. Her head is spinning as she leans into Christian, trying to stay as still and quiet as possible. She can't believe how close they are—literally and metaphorically. The fake relationship they've been maintaining for so long suddenly feels far too real.
Christian's voice is low and careful, as if he's afraid of breaking the fragile tension between them. "Marilena... you really didn't have to drag me in here."
