Amy's pov
Amy walked into the palace gym later that evening, hoping to clear her mind. The room was dim, lit only by soft overhead lights. Evan was already there, shirt damp with sweat, muscles carved by the kind of discipline she admired but never commented on.
He noticed her immediately.
“Amy,” he said, voice low. “Rough day?”
She nodded, picking up a towel. “Something like that.”
They trained in silence for a while. She could feel his eyes on her every time she exhaled, every time her body stretched or tightened under the weight of the workout. When she finished her last set, Evan stepped behind her, hands brushing her shoulders lightly.
“You’re overworking yourself,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
Amy froze.
He turned her around gently. “Look at me.”
She lifted
