Cross's arms enveloped Marceline like a protective cocoon as he lifted her effortlessly off her feet, her weight feeling almost nonexistent against his broad chest.

She could hear the soft padding of his footsteps echoing through the hallway, the sound oddly calming as he carried her toward their ensuite bathroom. Sunlight streamed through the frosted windows, casting gentle patterns over the polished marble tiles, illuminating the space with a warm glow.

As he lowered her into the pristine white bathtub, his movements were surprisingly gentle; his calloused hands contrasted starkly with the softness of the moment.

The cool ceramic felt refreshing against her skin, and she instinctively tucked her knees...