You were brushing your teeth when you heard the sound of bare feet padding into the bathroom. Looking into the mirror, you saw him—Lazarus, your arranged husband—leaning on the doorframe, shirtless and half-asleep, his hair messy, eyes barely open.

“Out. I need the bathroom,” he mumbled.

“I got here first.”

“I’m going to be late,” he said flatly, rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“So am I. And I’m already brushing my teeth.”

He stared at you. “You take forever. I need to shower.”

You wiped your mouth and raised an eyebrow. “Then wait.”

He blinked. “You’re impossible.”

With a teasing smile, you offered, “Then why don’t we shower together? Problem solved.”

That made him pause.

“No.”

You laughed. “Afraid you’ll fall for me?”

He stepped closer. “I’m afraid you’ll faint if you see me naked.”

“Try me,” you smirked, walking past him into the shower stall. You left the glass door slightly open on purpose.

A few seconds passed. Silence.

Then—knock knock knock.

“What now?” you called, water running behind you.

“I changed my mind. You said ‘problem solved,’ right?” His voice was calm. Firm. Way too calm.

Your breath caught. “You serious?”

“I don’t have time for your games today,” he replied.

You barely turned your head when the door opened. He stepped inside, casually tossing his towel aside, his tone unreadable.

“You started this,” he said. “Don’t turn into a shy cat now.”