Aria eyes closed, savoring the feeling of the warm towel caressing her face. The soft fabric gently stroked her skin, soothing and cleaning her tense muscles on her face.
Aria's lashes fluttered shut like butterfly wings. Her breathing slowing down, calming her senses and quieting her mind. The gentle pressure eased her tension, melting away the knots on her forehead.
For a moment, she forgot her injuries, the ache in her leg and the throb in her wrist, she forgot her struggles, the world she was in and her mysterious death. She forgot her fears, the unknown future and the lingering doubts.
All that remained was the warmth, the comfort and the heaven.
Aria's face tilted upward, her chin rising, as the towel continued its gentle caress, moving to her neck then her shoulder.
Next, she tended to her arms, carefully cleaning around the bandages with the damp towel, each stroke was calculated to avoid disturbing the delicate balance of her injuries.
Aria's hands moved with a gentle touch, cradling her arms as if they were her fragile treasure. Her fingers holding the towel moved around the bandages, tracing and soothing the edges with soft caresses.
The towel wiped across her skin, removing away the sweat and dirt that has accumulated during her ordeal.
As she finished cleaning her injured arm, Aria inspected the bandages, checking for any signs of leakage or compromise. She was satisfied with her examination and she continued her gentle cleansing. The towel swept across her elbows, wrists, and forearms, removing the dirt.
Aria carefully lifted her undershirt, exposing her midriff. The fabric rose up, revealing a slice of vulnerable skin that was pale and delicate.
She paused, ensuring the movement didn't jar her injuries. Her gaze dropped to the exposed area, scrutinizing every inch, she brought the wet towel to her midriff and she cleaned the area with soothing strokes, inorder not to irritate the skin.
Aria's fingers traced her belly button and she gave it a gentle pressure. The towel swept across her ribcage, relaxing the tension with every gentle stroke.
Her midriff was now cleaned, and she lowered her undershirt, the fabric settling back into place, molding to her curves.
She stood taller, surveying herself in the mirror, her upper body was now cleaned, the skin refreshed and glowing, The sweat that was mixed with dirts had now vanished.
Aria's used her fingers to traced her face, her features softer and more relaxed.
Her shoulders that was once tense and knotted is now relaxed, dropping slightly as she exhaled.
Her gaze moved to the lower parts of her body and it lingered there. Her legs and hips remained for it to be cleaned.
The bandages on her leg and wrist served as reminders of her struggles in movements.
Aria reached for the towel again, grabbed it and
she wets it under the warm faucet, the water dripping from the towel's edges.
With the towel refreshed again, Aria began to clean her legs, starting at the tops of her thighs downwards. The cloth glided smoothly, tracing the curves of her muscles, soothing her tense flesh.
She cleaned it in a gentle, sweeping motions, working her way downward. The towel stroked her skin, loosening dirt and washing away fatigue from her injured leg. She cleaned around the bandages on the leg, careful not to disturb them.
Aria inspected her injured leg, checking for any signs of bruising or swelling around.
Next, she tended to her other leg, from thighs to knees, the towel sweeping across the curves of her kneecaps.
Then, she cleaned her calves, the towel gliding over the muscles. Her ankles received the same attention and her feet were the last, the towel washing away dirt and sweat between her toes.
As she finished, Aria turned her attention to her reflection again then her gaze dropped to her dirty and torn uniform that was stained with sweat, dirt, and blood.
Aria's eyes narrowed, assessing the damage that laid at the bathroom floor. The uniform was practically dead, she couldn't wear it back; the uniform was beyond repair. The thought of donning it again, with its memories of pain and hardship, made her shudder.
But then again she hadn't carried the change of clothes she'd left on the bed with her to the bathroom.
However, getting those clean clothes meant leaving the bathroom's safe haven, and she was only in her undershirt and shorts. The thought sent a flutter through her chest and vulnerability washed over her.
Her undershirt that was once a comfortable layer, now felt flimsy and Her shorts, usually a relaxed fit, seemed too revealing.
And then there was Ryan together with Samuel, lounging in the living room, their presence was a daunting obstacle, she would have to pass them before reaching the bedroom.
Aria envisioned the potentially awkward encounter, the way Ryan and Samuel would both give her curious glances and the way their eyes would linger on her undershirt and shorts, made her skin prickle in discomfort.
Her cheeks warmed at the thought, a sudden flush spreading across her face like a slow burning fire. Her ears even turned a deep red, intensifying her self-awareness.
Aria suddenly became frustrated with her racing and conflicted emotions. Why was she suddenly so self-conscious? She was a seasoned military officer, hardened by combat and rigorous training. This wasn't supposed to faze her.
But something about this moment felt different. Perhaps it was the absence of her uniform, and the familiar structure of military life or perhaps it was the intimacy of her current state, exposed and unprotected.
Aria's thoughts swirled, her mind rebelling against the uncertainty. She felt like a warrior stripped of her defenses.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself. This was ridiculous. She was a leader, a protector.
With renewed resolve, Aria squared her shoulders and her posture was confident. She would stride past Ryan and Samuel, unfazed and unapologetic. Her footsteps would echo through the room while she would claim her space.