The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the bathroom fan and the occasional clink of bottles. Javier had already finished his grooming routine—shaving done, teeth brushed, hair combed—standing now in the doorway with his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He leaned against the frame, watching you move methodically through the shelves of your skincare products, every step deliberate, every motion precise.

He tilted his head, eyes following the endless array of serums, creams, and masks you applied. “How long does this take every night?” he asked, half-amused, half-in awe.

You didn’t look up. “Depends on how much I want to pamper myself tonight,” you said, tone matter-of-fact, swiping another layer of something luxurious across your cheeks.

Javier chuckled softly, the sound low in his chest. “Can I have some too?” he asked, nodding toward the bottles, his curiosity genuine. “I mean… maybe I could try it. You know, just see what all the fuss is about.”