No

Lana finishes the shower alone. She comes out in a towel, hair wet, the night washed off her thighs. Adam goes in after. The water runs. She dresses in the bedroom and does not look at the sheet.

Breakfast is quiet.

Coffee. Toast. The ordinary clink of a knife. Adam is not aware he came in his sleep. The mess was on her, and she washed it off, and she does not bring it up. He does not ask why she said hubby. She does not repeat it. They talk about their work. They talk about a meeting. They do not talk about his cock between her legs or the way she swallowed him with her eyes open.

They go to work.

Evening, they are home. Dinner. Pasta again, better salted. Dishes. A show neither of them watches. At eight-thirty Adam’s laptop is open on the table and Mia’s name is on the screen.

The call connects.