Chapter Thirty-Two: The Push

The air between Lucian and me had shifted significantly. It wasn’t warm, not even close, but it wasn’t boiling hot anymore either. We weren’t at each other’s throats every second of every day, and that counted for something.

He didn’t scowl when I walked past him in the hall, his sharp jaw relaxed instead of clenched. I didn’t mutter insults under my breath when he sat across the dining table, his silverware clicking against the china like it was the only sound in the room, making sure it irritated only me.

Sometimes he even nodded at me in greeting, the kind of nod you give a neighbor you don’t particularly like but have learned to live with. I took it. At this point, peace was priceless.

The real surprise came the evening I found a bottle of wine waiting in my room. The curtains were drawn against the night, the lamp casting a golden glow across the sheets. The bottle sat neatly on the dresser with a folded note propped against it. Not for me, obviously. The note was short, clipped