Evaline:
The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, pale but promising. I sat at my dresser, brushing my hair with practiced care, trying not to think about the ache in my muscles from yesterday's rescue. My door handle clicked softly. My heart tightened—not with alarm, but with certainty.
Oscar.
In the darkness of the early hour, I straightened, tucked stray strands behind my ears, and took a steadying breath. When I opened the door, he stood there in his Instructor uniform—dark slacks and a crisp navy shirt. No warmth in his expression, just calm professionalism.
"Morning," I said quietly, stepping aside.
"Good morning, Eva," he replied, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him with a soft click. "I—had to check in."
I permitted him entry but kept my body language neutral, reminding myself we were still Instructor and student. "Thank you," I whispered.
