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What Balor doesn’t know is that it’s not just a spa day.

Because I need to reclaim something.

Not just my body, but my narrative.

He didn’t even blink when I told him the girls and I had a full afternoon of massages and facials planned.

Didn’t question the change of clothes in my bag, or the slightly-too-chipper smile I gave him before blowing a kiss on the way out.

Which is how I ended up here, in a private room in SOHO INK, lying face down on a padded massage-style chair while my cousins circle like excited sharks.

“Are you sure about this?” Leanna asks again, her wide eyes bouncing between the sketchbook and my shoulder.

“Yep,” I say, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.

“But what will your mom say?” Michaela chimes in, always the cautious one.

“My mom told me to go for it,” I say, smirking a little. “Which is a hell of a lot different from when I asked for one at sixteen and got grounded for a month.”

“I want one too,” Shelly mutters, flipping pages in the sample book. “But I think Ono will have a fit.”

Aella rolls her eyes. “I’m not surprised you didn’t tell him. I mean, Sammy would lose his shit if some dude put hands on me, even for a tattoo.”

She shrugs, completely unfazed, and I grin.

We’re all so used to the possessive, growly men in our lives it’s just become part of our daily reality. But right now? Today’s about us.

“Actually,” I say, sitting up a little as the door opens, “I thought about that.”

Right then, a woman steps inside, petite, confident, with streaks of purple in her dark hair.

“Hello Lucy,” she greets me warmly, and then her eyes widen as she takes in our group.

“Wow. You really meant it when you said your whole family was coming, huh?”

“Nah. This isn’t even half,” Michaela speaks up.

“Um, yeah. Hope that’s okay?” I ask and wait for her nod.

“Very,” April says with a grin.

“So, everyone, this is April Jones. She co-owns SOHO INK with her husband, and they’ve been happily married for seven years. Two gorgeous kids, and a lot of experience making people feel whole again. April, prepare to be bombarded with ten thousand questions,” I say, stage-whispering the last part.

April laughs, clearly unfazed. “Bring it on. I’ve had bridal parties in here. Nothing scares me.”

The room shifts, relaxing, and so do I.

April turns back to me, clipboard in hand. “So, Lucy, what are we covering?”

I meet her eyes, then slowly lower the robe from my shoulder.

The room goes quiet.

My cousins stop mid-giggle.

Even Shelly stops flipping pages.

The scar is still healing.