Night deepened as Jenna Roland carried the last sack of clothes into the living room. Beads of sweat slid down her flushed cheeks.

Ethan Roscente pushed the door open, his suit jacket draped carelessly over his arm.

"Had dinner?" Jenna straightened up, wiping her forehead.

"Yeah." His gaze lingered on her heated face. His Adam's apple bobbed. "You—"

The words died on his lips.

Jenna tilted her head. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing." He turned toward the bedroom. "I'm taking a shower."

In the kitchen, Jenna stared blankly at the bubbling pot of noodles. She'd stood at the night market for eight hours straight without even a sip of water.

As she set the bowl on the table, Ethan emerged, towel-drying his hair. Droplets traced the sharp lines of his collarbones before disappearing beneath his shirt.

"What are those?" He pointed to the burlap sacks in the corner.

Her chopsticks paused. "New inventory. The e-tricycle couldn't fit..." She bit her lip. "I'll move them tomorrow—"

"Your call." He cut her off. "This is your home too."

The bedroom light went out. Jenna curled up on her floor bedding, every muscle screaming. Just as her eyelids grew heavy, the crisp sound of turning pages came from above.

"Tired?" Ethan's voice cut through the darkness.

Jenna's eyes flew open.

"Mr. Roscente actually cares?" She chuckled, rolling onto her back.

Another page turned. Moonlight outlined the rigid line of his jaw.

"Don't flatter yourself."

She stared at the ceiling. "Exhausted, sure. But every piece sold feels like watching a flower bloom."

The book snapped shut. Suddenly Ethan loomed over her, his shadow swallowing her whole. His fingers grazed her calloused palm.

"You really..." His voice dropped. "Know how to find joy in hardship."