A soft knock at the terrace door interrupted them. A staff member handed Julian a small, discreet paper bag. Julian thanked him and turned back to Amara, who was watching him with wide, worried eyes.
"What's in the bag?" she asked, her voice tight. "Julian, are you sick? Why are you getting medicine?"
He walked over to her, his expression softening into something incredibly tender. "It's not for me, Amara. I know I was... a lot for you. I noticed you flinching when you thought I wasn't looking." He pulled a small tube of ointment and a pack of relievers from the bag. "I heard this is good for the swelling and the pain. Come on, I'll apply it."
Amara's eyes went wide. "Wait...no! It's fine, really. I mean... I can do it myself," she whispered, her voice failing her as she looked at the floor.
"Are you shy now?" Julian teased, a playful glint in his eye. "I'm your husband. There isn't an inch of you I don't know after last night."
"Julian, but..."
