The next day, Blake awoke from his hangover, his head pounding like a drum. Blinking against the harsh light streaming through the window, he struggled to piece together his surroundings.Through his daze, he felt a cool, damp cloth gently wiping his face. A familiar scent wafted through the air, a mix of lavender and something distinctly comforting.Was Eva taking care of him?No, it couldn't be. Eva's touch was always tender, her movements careful and soft. This touch, though gentle, was different—more practiced, deliberate. Blake’s heart raced as he tried to make sense of the situation, the fog in his mind slowly beginning to lift.Blake frowned and slowly opened his eyes, his vision gradually coming into focus. To his surprise, a maid was sitting on the edge of his bed."Mr. Torres, you're awake," she said cheerfully, her voice filled with relief. "I made you some soup. Please, have some."Setting the towel aside, the maid reached over to help him sit up, her movements careful and
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