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The call to prayer echoed softly in the background as the last hints of sunset slipped behind the horizon, painting the Tunisian sky in deep gold and bruised pink. A soft breeze drifted through the arched terrace of their private rooftop suite, where a candlelit table was set beneath a hanging canopy of woven lights. The warm glow reflected off Monet's skin, casting golden shadows across her collarbone as she leaned back in her chair, slightly bewildered.
"This wasn't in the itinerary," she said with a crooked smile, raising an eyebrow at Adelaide, who stood across from her, dressed in a flowing black silk dress that contrasted beautifully with her sun-kissed skin and waves of loose, wind-brushed hair.
Adelaide only smiled. "For once," she said, stepping closer, "you're not in control."
The table was set with dishes she'd coordinated with the hotel chef herself: lamb tajine with apricots and almonds, saffron couscous, and fresh pomegranate salad. Beside it, a bottle of local wine shimmered in a silver bucket of ice. A band played softly down below in the medina, the faint hum of a lute weaving into the night.
Monet sat forward, her eyes flickering over the spread. "You did all this?"
Adelaide leaned in to pour her a glass. "I'm full of surprises."
Monet caught her hand and pulled her down gently, kissing her palm before letting her sit across from her. "You're not trying to seduce me with lamb and wine, are you?"
Adelaide's grin was sharp and playful. "Would it work?"
Monet chuckled lowly, her eyes full of mischief. "Absolutely."
They talked for hours. About everything. About nothing. Adelaide recounted the story of how she'd bartered for mint tea in the souq earlier that day, speaking flawless Arabic to a stunned shopkeeper. Monet confessed she couldn't stop watching Adelaide interact with people — how her warmth melted even the grumpiest merchants, how her fluency made her feel like she belonged everywhere.
"So," Adelaide said toward the end of dessert, playing with the rim of her glass, "this is what it feels like to spoil you."
Monet tilted her head, watching her. "You do it every day, you know. Just by being you."
Adelaide shook her head. "You're the one who books out entire shopping districts. Who knows my coffee order even before I do. I wanted to give you something back."
"You already gave me the world when you let me in," Monet said quietly.
For a moment, the noise of the city dulled, the stars above them seeming to burn a little brighter.
Adelaide rose from her seat and slowly walked around the table. Without a word, she straddled Monet's lap, settling there with a practiced ease that came from trust — and something deeper. Her fingers brushed Monet's jaw, tracing its curve with reverence.
