Chapter 65: her anchor
Freya sat cross-legged on her yoga mat, the room’s quiet wrapping around her like a cocoon as she transitioned from yoga to meditation.
The practice was her anchor—a mental discipline to hone her mind, carve out calmness, sharpen focus, and cradle inner peace.
Today, she needed it more than ever.
The rematch with Kael loomed, his taunting grin and yesterday’s defeat gnawing at her pride. She wouldn’t let him unravel her again—not with his tricks, his touches, or that smug certainty he wielded like a blade.
She began with a warm-up meditation, eyes closed, spine straight, her breaths deep and conscious, pulling air into her lungs and exhaling tension.
Her platinum-cyan hair rested against her neck, still damp from yoga, the cyan t-shirt clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, her dark pants hugging her toned thighs.
She shifted to sensory meditation, sharpening her awareness, letting the world unfold around her.
Sounds crystallized—the faint drip of a leak in her bathroom, a slow drip - drip against the tile; the creak of the Haven’s old wood settling; the distant hum of the refrigerator outside.
Scents bloomed—the musky trace of her own sweat, the lingering smell of the left aside plate of breakfast snuffed, and something new, crisp and faint: the clean, starchy smell of the white lace lingerie Kael had left by the door, a silent dare.
Her skin tingled, hyper-aware, catching every sensation—the cool air brushing her bare arms, the slow trail of a sweat drop rolling down her temple, pooling at her jaw before slipping to her collarbone.
Another bead traced her spine, teasing the small of her back, and she felt it all, her body a map she knew by heart.