Steam fogged the edges of the bathroom mirror as Luiz let the water run, trying to wash away the sting of the night — the fists, the fear, the humiliation.For the first time in days, the water felt warm against his skin.
Outside, Clara hesitated. She held a clean towel in her hands, biting her lip.She'd told herself she'd just leave it by the door. Nothing more.
But when she heard him cough softly inside, concern overpowered her hesitation.She knocked. "Luiz? You forgot a towel."
The door creaked open just enough for her to see his silhouette through the steam.He looked startled at first — then tired — then something else.
"Clara, I—"
"Just take it," she said, her voice softer now. "You'll catch a cold."
Their fingers brushed as he reached for the towel.Neither of them pulled away.
For a second, the air between them changed — heavier, unspoken.The kind of silence where feelings said what words couldn't.
He looked at her, eyes shadowed but warm. "You shouldn't be this kind to me."
"And you shouldn't try to carry everything alone," she whispered.
The steam curled around them like a secret.He stepped just a little closer, close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin, the tremor in his breath.
But then he stopped — jaw tightening — fighting something inside.
He turned away slowly, and the door closed between them.
For a moment, Clara stood there, her heart pounding.Then, with a deep breath, she turned the handle again — the door opened — and she looked into his eyes.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence said enough.