That night, Circe lay awake in bed, waiting for sleep to claim her but even after hours of staring at the ceiling, rest never came. Her mind refused to quiet. Again and again, it replayed the day's events, dissecting every word, every glance, every moment.
But each time her thoughts reached their almost-kiss, her heart would lurch, and her pulse would thump wildly.
What would have happened if the messenger hadn't interrupted them?
It was a question that refused to leave her alone. The thought had rooted itself in her mind and refused to loosen its hold.
How would it feel to kiss her husband?
Before today, the idea had never even crossed her mind. But now it was all she could think about. The way he had looked at her as he leaned in, his breath fanning against her lips, his surety in the moment, like he had been waiting for it far longer than she realized.
