The bathroom door was not completely closed. Warm steam drifted through the small opening, mixing with the cool air of the hallway. The faint sound of running water had just stopped.

Charlie stepped out of the bathroom; a white towel was loosely wrapped around his hips, his hair still damp and slicked back, revealing the scars across his back. He glanced briefly over his shoulder toward the door. He should have been surprised to see you there, but instead, he seemed almost amused by the unexpected encounter.

Without losing his calm composure, he adjusted the towel around his waist. He didn't seem rushed or embarrassed; if anything, he appeared to be just as aware of the awkwardness of the moment as you were.

You, however, froze for a few seconds. An embarrassed, almost foolish smile spread across your face as you instinctively lifted the folded newspaper in your hand to cover it. As if a thin piece of paper could somehow make this strange moment disappear.

"Oopsies... Sorry, Father."

You still couldn't bring yourself to lower the newspaper. But then you felt him turn and move closer toward you.