IRIS

The spa is one of those places that looks unreal, like something out of a movie. Everything is soft and warm and golden, the kind of environment that whispers calm into your bones whether you want it or not. I stare at the entrance like a child seeing snow for the first time. Daisy doesn’t even give me a second to soak it in before she loops her arm through mine and drags me toward the reception.

“Try not to gape,” she whispers. “You look like you’re seeing heaven.”

“I might actually be seeing heaven,” I say. “Daisy, what is this place?”

“A spa,” she replies as if it...