Salviana, still wrapped in the cloak, gazed up at her husband, her eyes searching his face for answers she couldn't voice. His care, his attention—it felt strange, almost unreal. No one had ever treated her like this, like she was something fragile, something precious.
The weight of his hands earlier, the way he had cradled her in the bath, the tenderness—it unsettled her, yet stirred something deep inside.
He had stopped himself, though, right at the point when his fingers had trembled against her skin. She hadn't missed it.
The way his breath had hitched, his hesitation before drawing back as though he was holding something primal at bay. The thought made her stomach flutter.
What was he feeling? And why had he stopped?
She found herself wondering—was she ready for more? The idea of intimacy with him had hovered like a shadow ever since their wedding, but they hadn't crossed that line yet.
