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She falls apart for me again, shaking beneath me, crying my name. I come seconds later, buried deep, gripping her.
When we finally collapse, tangled and slick with sweat, all I can do is pull her close and press my lips to her temple.
Our bodies are a tangle of limbs and sweat-damp sheets. Her head rests on my chest, her fingers tracing slow, aimless shapes over my ribs like she’s sketching something only she can see. My arms are around her, holding her close—not because I have to, but because I don’t want to let go.
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
The silence stretches. It’s the kind that holds things—unspoken thoughts, maybe feelings. Things we haven’t dared admit yet.
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You okay?”
I nod, but she doesn’t move. She keeps tracing. Circling.
“Seems like something is bothering you,” she says. “You just went quiet.”
I exhale slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. I’m just… not used to this.”
“To what?”
“This,” I say, motioning between us. “The quiet. The… peace, I guess.”
She lifts her head just enough to look at me. “Is that what this feels like to you?”
I meet her gaze. “Yeah. You?”
“Same.”
There’s a pause. I don’t know what makes me say it, but I do.
“When I was a kid, my father used to disappear for days at a time. Business trips, supposedly. But he’d leave in the middle of the night without warning. No goodbye. No timeline. Just… gone.”
Her expression shifts—softens, like I’ve cracked something open in her.
“That’s… awful,” she says gently.
I shrug, though it still echoes in my bones. “After a while, I stopped expecting him to come back. I’d just sit by the window—not because I believed he would return, but because I wanted to be the one who noticed if he did.”
Her hand slides across my chest, still listening.
“It started with little things,” I continue. “Getting perfect grades so maybe my teachers would mention me to him. Being on my best behavior so my mom would bring me up in conversation. And when I got older, I went straight into the family company, thinking if I worked hard enough, made enough of a name for myself, he’d finally see me.”
I pause, staring at the ceiling, at the dim glow the storm throws across the walls. “He built the company my grandfather started into this massive empire. I admired that. I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to prove I could carry it even further.”
Another beat. Then my voice drops. “But lately… I’ve found out some things. About how he really runs things. What he hides behind the paperwork and boardroom doors. It’s been screwing with my head. Making me question everything I thought I respected.”
She says nothing, just shifts closer, resting her chin against my chest.
“But having you here,” I murmur, fingers brushing her spine, “this past week… it’s been like a breath of fresh air. Like I can finally exhale.”
She’s quiet, but her hand moves—tracing a path up my chest, to my jaw. Her thumb brushes gently across my cheek.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” I whisper.
She looks up at me and nods, her voice soft. “Thank you for trusting me with it.”
I glance down at her. “Why does it feel so easy with you?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “Maybe because we’re both a little cracked. Or maybe because this place, this storm… it’s sealed us off from the world just long enough to feel safe in each other.”