Sarah’s POVAlessandro didn’t speak much after that. He simply embraced me until my cries diminished, until the shaking in my hands became calm enough to control. Then, as if he realised I couldn’t support myself through the following steps, he softly stood and assisted me to my feet, his hands stabilising me as if I were delicate.“Come,” he murmured gently, his fingers delicate as he led me to the bathtub. He examined the water, it was warm but not boiling, the way I always liked. He eased me down into it like I was something sacred, something fragile, lowering me with care until the water cradled me.He rolled his sleeves up, never rushing, never making me feel hurried or observed. Just present. Just here.His hands glided through my hair gently, as if calming a scared creature, patiently separating the strands. He cascaded warm water over my head repeatedly, as if he could wash away the burden from me. His fingers brushed along my shoulders, my arms, my back, never hurried, nev
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