The sun had already started sinking lower by the time they returned from the sea. Their clothes were damp, their hair messy from the wind and water, and laughter still lingered between them from the hours they had spent together.
The yacht waited quietly near the dock, swaying gently with the movement of the waves. It was elegant without trying too hard—private, polished, unmistakably Rafael's.
Aria stepped aboard first, glancing around curiously as Rafael followed behind her.
"You keep surprising me," she murmured softly.
Rafael smirked faintly. "That's because you still underestimate me."
Inside, the yacht felt warm and refined, the soft lighting reflecting against dark wood interiors and large glass windows that overlooked the sea. Aria brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear as Rafael disappeared briefly into another room.
When he returned, he placed several shopping bags onto the couch casually.
"For you," he said.
Aria blinked. "What is this?"
