KAIREN POV
I woke up to warmth.
Not the oppressive, suffocating kind that came with Tokyo's humidity or the weight of my father's expectations. This was different. Softer. Human.
Aisha was curled against me, her body tucked into mine like we were puzzle pieces that somehow fit. She was wearing one of my T-shirts, oversized on her frame, hanging off one shoulder, and a pair of loose pants. Her hair smelled like my shampoo, that faint coconut-and-mint scent that clung to her curls.
I didn't move.
I just stared at the ceiling, my arm draped over her waist, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing against my chest.
For a moment, just a moment, I felt normal.
Like I wasn't Kairen Alexei Kurov-Shin, heir to a crime empire, puppet to a man who controlled half the world's black market. Like I wasn't drowning. Like I wasn't suffocating.
