Suki

The bedroom was quiet but not still — the kind of hush that hums after conversation, when someone's stepped out of the room but left the door ajar. A low lamp glowed near the bed, turning the cream walls gold, and the sheets behind her were creased and warm with the memory of bodies.

Suki stood barefoot in front of the mirror, caught in a moment she hadn’t meant to become a moment. Her hair curled softly at the ends, brushing her collarbone. One strap of the lingerie had slipped down her shoulder, delicate as a sigh. She didn’t bother to pull it up.

The set was lace — pale, high-waisted, and unfamiliar. Something she’d picked up on a whim after work, tucked into tissue paper and left at the back of a drawer. She hadn’t even told Kate she’d brought it.

Now, with the robe tossed carelessly behind her on the bed, she stood in it properly for the first time.

Her gaze drifted over her reflection, not quite critical, not quite admiring — just curious. Her body looked different in this. Not hidden. Not cute. Not effortless. Deliberate. The bra held her firmly, elegantly, a little more serious than she was used to. The high waist gave her a softness she hadn’t expected to like. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak, though there was no one else in the room.

Not yet.

She heard the distant clink of a wine glass. Kate, probably in the kitchen. Maybe coming back. Suki didn’t move. She liked the idea that someone might walk in and see her like this — not posing, not explaining. Just being.

She let her arms fall loose at her sides, her weight shifting slightly onto one hip. Her skin glowed under the lamplight. There was nothing overtly seductive in her expression — only something slower. A woman trying on a different version of herself, just to see how it felt.

She didn’t know what she’d do if Kate walked in.

But she didn’t cover herself, either.