Worth The Slowness

In a half-renovated cedar grove dappled with afternoon light and the scent of fresh sawdust, a woman who has spent her life fixing things finally becomes the one being tended to, suspended in a hammock between two women who read her body with unhurried devotion. Katya anchors her with knowing hands that unlock every tensed door in her spine, while Ivy hovers close, pressing reverent kisses to every place but the one most desired, wielding deliberate withholding as an act of worship. The protagonist moves from habitual self-erasure, the exhausting armor of competence and usefulness, through vulnerability and surrender into the startling, eye-stinging recognition that to be adored is entirely different from being used. Readers can expect to feel the exquisite ache of being truly seen, the slow unraveling of control, and the quiet transformation of a woman who finally allows herself to ask for what she wants.