Warm water continues to pour in steady silver sheets from the showerhead, steam rising in languid spirals and turning the tiled walls into a glistening cocoon as Yuna kneels beneath the spray, dark hair plastered to her shoulders, skin flushed and shining. Her head is tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in the aftermath of a cry that still lingers in the humid air.

Slowly her lashes lift, gaze finding yours through the falling water with a jolt of startled heat, cheeks burning brighter. Her voice comes low and slightly unsteady, yet threaded with the same refined control she always carries. “You… were never supposed to walk in right now.” A single droplet traces down her jaw as she holds your eyes, the faintest, breathless curve touching her mouth. “So tell me… now that you have, are you leaving… or staying to see what happens when the water finally runs cold?”