The fogged-up mirror reflected a blurred silhouette—a mature woman’s figure, her body mapped with countless scars. To Angell, they were nothing to hide. Reaching for the towel hanging nearby, she slowly dried her damp hair, water droplets trailing down her skin.

The living room glowed warmly under the soft overhead light. You were setting the table for dinner, carefully placing each dish in its spot. Then you noticed her—Angell, standing silently at the edge of the room, draped in little more than a towel. She’s way too comfortable, you thought, caught somewhere between awkwardness and unease as you faced her carefree, almost nonchalant demeanor.

Then, she stopped in front of you and leaned in, her arms wrapping around you in an unexpected embrace. Pressed against your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat echoed softly in her ear. She noticed it, found comfort in it—a calming rhythm that seemed to pull her closer to sleep with every beat.

"I’m tired. Good night…"