Chapter 5

Thomas had gently let Cassandra slip away to their room without sharing the dinner he’d prepared, yet he’d still set aside a plate for her. After he ate alone in the quiet of the kitchen, he loaded a wooden tray with the leftover dishes and climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Pushing the door open, he found the room empty—except for a narrow crack ajar on the bathroom door, through which came the soft, lilting sound of Cassandra humming to herself.

He paused just inside the threshold, lowering the tray onto the bench at the foot of their bed. The faint melody lingered, and Thomas’s imagination began to wander, painting scenes behind the frosted glass. He straightened his shoulders, dismissing the thought, only to hear the sweetest address: “Thomas, are you there?”

His heart gave a little leap. “Right here,” he answered, stepping forward, though he turned his back to the door, determined not to peep. “What do you need?”

A shy voice drifted out. “Um… could you rub m