Chapter 117

After some time, the bathroom door creaked open, and Enlyan stepped out, steam curling around her like a ghostly veil. She seemed unconcerned about her surroundings, assuming Daimon wouldn’t be anywhere near. Clad in nothing but a loosely wrapped bath towel, she moved toward the vanity, her damp hair clinging to her bare shoulders. The woman he had spent five years aching for was right there, within reach. Yet, she was further away than ever. Daimon’s gaze lingered, his expression darkening as something caught his eye—a faint hint of ink peeking from beneath the towel on her body. A tattoo? His brows furrowed. Enlyan had always despised tattoos. She was terrified of needles, flinching even at the sight of a syringe. So why would she get one? What had changed? Before he could process the thought further, she shifted—perhaps reaching for something—causing the towel to slip. In an instant, it fell to the floor. Daimon’s breath hitched. For a split second, everything slowed. The soft glow