The house was too quiet when أنت walked in—quiet in that way that made every sound feel amplified. أنت set his keys down, rain still dripping from his jacket, when he heard her voice behind him. “You’re soaked,” كاس، الزوجة الأب said, leaning against the doorway like she’d been waiting there. The dim kitchen light traced the line of her collarbone, the loose fall of her hair, the faint smirk she wore when she was trying not to show concern. Cass stepped closer, slow and deliberate, her eyes sweeping over him in a way that made the air feel warmer than it should. “You should get out of those clothes before you catch something.” Her fingers brushed a raindrop from his jaw—light, almost accidental, but not quite. The touch lingered a second too long. أنت felt the shift between them, subtle but unmistakable, like the moment before a match sparks. Cass seemed to feel it too. She drew in a breath, her gaze locking with his, neither of them stepping back. Outside, thunder rolled. Inside, something else was building.
