Morning light seeped into the apartment like a slow-moving tide, warm but cautious, as if unsure whether it was allowed to touch the quiet tenderness lingering between them.
She woke before him this time.
He was lying on his side, facing her, one arm still loosely draped over her waist as if his body refused to let go even in sleep. His breathing was steady, gentler than she had ever heard it. She watched him for a moment, memorizing the relaxed lines of his face—because he only ever looked this unguarded beside her.
She lifted her hand, brushing her fingertips lightly across his cheek.
He didn't wake, but his hand tightened around her waist, pulling her closer.
A small smile tugged at her lips.
Even asleep, he held onto her like she was something precious.
Like he was afraid she might disappear.
She whispered softly, "Why do you hold me like this…?"
As if he had heard her, his eyelids fluttered open. His gaze, still heavy with sleep, softened further when he saw her.
"You're awake," he murmured, voice rough. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"You looked peaceful," she whispered back. "I didn't want to disturb you."
He brushed her hair away from her face, thumb grazing her temple in that familiar, grounding way of his. "I'm more peaceful when you talk to me."
Her heart tightened—again, in that way only he seemed capable of causing.
He pulled her closer, burying his face lightly against her neck. He breathed her in, quietly, deeply.
"Stay like this for a moment," he murmured.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. His warmth surrounded her, and for a moment, nothing existed except the soft rhythm of their breathing.
But silence, as always, didn't last.
She hesitated before speaking. "Do you… regret anything?"
He pulled back immediately, eyes finding hers with a seriousness that made her breath catch.
"No," he said. "Not one thing about us."
"But," she whispered, "you looked stressed yesterday. Like something was bothering you."
He exhaled, running his hand down her back in slow reassurance, but there was a tension in his shoulders she hadn't noticed last night.
"It's not you," he said quietly. "Work is complicated. People talk. And…"
He paused, eyes flickering away for a second.
"There are things I need to be careful about."
She swallowed. "Because of me?"
His gaze snapped back to hers, sharp and sure.
"Never because of you. Because I want to protect what we have."
She felt the faint ache in her chest ease—but not completely.
He noticed.
"You're thinking too much again," he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. "Tell me."
She took a breath. "I'm afraid I'll be the reason you get in trouble. Or that someone will find out and misunderstand us."
He cupped her face gently.
"We'll deal with that when it happens," he said. "But I won't let anyone take you away from me."
His voice dropped.
"And I won't let anything push me away from you."
Her throat tightened. The intensity in his eyes was something she wasn't used to—something almost fierce.
"But what if—"
"There is no 'what if'," he cut in softly. "I choose you. And I'm going to keep choosing you, even when it's difficult."
She blinked hard, trying not to let her emotions spill too easily.
"Why are you so calm about this?"
"Because I've already made up my mind."
His thumb stroked her cheek again. "You're not a mistake. You're not trouble. You're the one thing I look forward to."
Her breath trembled. "…You mean that?"
He didn't answer with words.
Instead, he kissed her—slow, steady, grounding. A kiss that said more than he ever allowed himself to speak.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers.
"I mean everything I say to you."
She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes for a moment. "I'm scared… of losing this."
"I know." His fingers intertwined with hers. "I'm scared of that too."
The confession surprised her.
"You…? But you always look so sure."
"I'm not." He lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles gently. "I'm only sure about you."
Her heart tumbled.
She leaned into him, burying her face against his chest. He held her tightly, his chin resting on her head.
After a moment, she whispered, "I don't want to hide forever."
He stiffened—not with fear, but with thought.
"…I know."
She looked up at him.
"What if one day," she said carefully, "we don't have to hide?"
His jaw clenched slightly—not rejecting the idea, but weighing it. Slowly.
"I want that," he said eventually, voice low. "More than you know."
Her eyes widened.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want to be able to hold your hand outside. Walk with you. Introduce you to people. Everything."
Her lips parted. She had imagined those things, dreamt of them—but hearing him say it felt unreal.
"Then why—"
"Because right now," he murmured, "I want to protect you more than I want to be selfish."
She swallowed hard.
He brushed her cheek again. "Give me time. I'm not asking you to wait forever—just… let me settle everything first."
She nodded slowly. "I'll wait."
He kissed her forehead, lingering.
"And I'll make it worth it."
They stayed like that for a long moment—lost in each other's quiet, fragile certainty.
Then his phone vibrated on the nightstand.
He didn't move immediately. He just sighed against her shoulder.
"You have to go?" she whispered.
"Probably."
But he didn't loosen his hold.
"Then don't go yet."
He gave a soft, tired laugh. "You're making this difficult."
"Good," she murmured, clinging to him. "You make everything difficult for me too."
He pressed a kiss to her jaw. "Five more minutes."
"Ten."
He looked at her, eyes warm. "Anything you want."
She smiled, and he kissed her again—slower this time, deeper, as if he needed to memorize her before stepping back into the world.
When he finally pulled away, he whispered against her lips:
"I'm coming back tonight."
"Promise?"
He held her gaze.
"Promise."
And for the first time, she believed him without hesitation.
Because this time, his promise didn't sound like comfort.
It sounded like a decision.
A future he had already chosen.