Lor stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing him like a soft, obedient cloud before it frayed and curled into the hallway's cooler air.
He nudged a plush towel onto the marble floor with his toe, dragging it over his skin in long, rough swipes, the fabric soaking up the lingering rose-sweet scent of bathwater, Nellie's kisses, and the faint salt of their shared heat.
His exhale came out half-laugh, a sound he didn't plan but couldn't contain, warm with the glow of a day that had unfolded perfectly.
Nellie's room felt different now, as if the light had shifted closer to the floor, as if the pale blue rug had memorized the weight of their bodies.
He spotted his shirt draped over a chair, its linen cool against his still-warm skin as he shrugged it on, buttons half-done in a lazy rush.
His trousers followed, the belt threading through loops with the quick, practiced flick of muscle memory.
