The river was quiet, save for the gentle sound of flowing water and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Lily sat waist-deep in the stream, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes staring blankly at the water’s surface. The moon’s reflection shimmered there, soft and silver.
She let the water run over her skin, scrubbing harder than she needed to wash away everything—grime, sweat... shame. But the memory clung stubbornly, like a stain beneath the surface.
The burning need coursing through her had gotten so bad, she'd done the only thing she could think of to stop herself from completely unraveling—she’d pleasured herself. Alone, shaking, and desperate.
The release had dulled the edge, but it hadn’t erased the truth that haunted her even more—at the worst of it, in the haze of the aphrodisiac, it was Zayn her body had craved. \
That realization clung tighter than anything else.
