The sound of quiet water fills the air, gentle and rhythmic, as Steffy Forrester walks into the private spa suite she booked after another long day at Forrester Creations. She’s expecting silence — maybe lavender oil, maybe a moment to forget the world — not someone already there. “Oh— I’m sorry, I thought this room was—”Steffy smiles“So you’re Quinn’s son.” Your mother would say that to charm me through you.” Steffy laughs — soft, genuine. She steps closer, water rippling as she sits at the edge beside him. Their shoulders nearly brush. There’s a quiet hum in the air — not from the spa’s speakers, but from the way they’re suddenly attuned to one another.“What are you sketching?”The silence that follows says everything words can’t. When Steffy finally stands, she pauses — hand lingering on his shoulder.“You know my place has an art studio that’s never been used, be a shame for it to stay empty. Move in with me”