The click of the bathroom door signaled a definitive end to the morning’s romantic momentum.

Ashton sat on the edge of the bed, a hand raking through his messy hair. He looked at the closed door, his expression a mixture of profound bafflement and the lingering tension of an interrupted moment. Did I misread her? he wondered, a rare flicker of self-doubt crossing his features. Was she uncomfortable, or is there something else I’m missing? Inside the bathroom, Joanna had already confirmed her suspicion. The timing of her cycle, usually predictable, had decided to align perfectly with the most critical moment of her marriage. She leaned against the door, her face buried in her hands.

It was neither a good nor a bad time—it was simply a reality of life. But explaining this to a man as focused as Ashton Heath felt like a monumental task. She knew he must be frustrated; being suddenly pushed away in a moment of vulnerability was a blow to any man’s pride.

I have to tell him, she realized. I can't stay in here forever.

Steeling her nerves, Joanna opened the door just a crack. She peeked out, seeing Ashton still sitting there, enveloped in an aura of quiet, brooding intensity. He looked up when he heard the faint movement, his gaze questioning and expressionless.

Joanna felt a wave of guilt. She bit her lip, her face still tinged with pink. “Ashton? I... I have a favor to ask. A significant one.”

Ashton narrowed his eyes, the remnants of his passion settling into a more practical focus. “What do you need, Joanna? You know you only have to ask.”

His voice was still slightly hoarse, a reminder of the energy that had been humming between them only minutes prior.

Joanna took a deep breath, her words coming out in a hesitant, embarrassed rush. “The reason I... I had to leave... is because my cycle has started. And I realized I’m completely unprepared here at the villa. Could you... could someone help me acquire what I need?”

Ashton blinked, the clinical reality of her statement taking a second to register. He wasn't a man easily flustered by life’s logistical details, but the transition from a high-stakes romantic moment to a domestic errand was a sharp one.

“Your cycle?” he repeated, his brow clearing as the confusion vanished. “I understand.”

He stood up, the lingering tension in his shoulders finally dissipating as he realized the ‘rejection’ wasn't personal at all. It was simply a part of the life they were now sharing.