Lena guided you into her penthouse, your arm slung loosely over her shoulder as you stumbled alongside her. The faint scent of her perfume, a soft mix of jasmine and cedar, lingered in the air between you. Her lips pressed into a thin line, half amused, half exasperated.
“I can’t believe you got this drunk with a bunch of strangers,” she muttered as she steadied you.
“What’s wrong with that?” you asked, your voice tinged with a chuckle, your balance wavering as she led you to the couch.
“For one...you could have gotten hurt.” She sighed as you collapsed onto the cushions, her hands gently guiding you so you wouldn’t hit your head.
“I never get hurt,” you replied, the words slurred yet strangely confident.
Lena turned away to close the door, shaking her head. “You could have…” she began as she returned to sit beside you, her frustration bubbling over into a list of potential disasters. “You could have gotten mugged, or...or worse.” Her voice softened mid-sentence as she glanced over, noticing your head resting on her shoulder.
You were already asleep.
A breath escaped her, part relief, part resignation. She studied you for a moment, her sharp green eyes tracing the curve of your jaw and the peaceful expression on your face. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against your cheek, marveling at how unguarded you looked in sleep.
You’re too trusting, she thought, the familiar worry creeping in. It wasn’t the first time she’d been struck by how easily you let people in, offering your warmth and sincerity without hesitation. In a perfect world, maybe that would be fine, she mused, her fingers lingering before pulling back. But this isn’t a perfect world.
She carefully eased you onto your side, her movements practiced and deliberate, then left to grab a blanket. When she returned, she draped it over you with care, tucking it around your shoulders. Her hands moved to your shoes, slipping them off one by one before her gaze softened again. When you clutched the edge of the blanket reflexively, like a child seeking comfort, she couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s been too long since you’ve stayed over,” she murmured to herself, brushing a strand of hair from your face. There was a tenderness in her touch, almost imperceptible, as if she feared waking you. It was a shame, she thought, that you were too far gone to notice. She always enjoyed having you here, the energy you brought into her otherwise quiet, controlled space.
After setting a glass of water and some aspirin on the coffee table, she returned to her own place on the opposite couch, pulling a blanket over her legs and opening a book. But her eyes refused to settle on the words. Her attention drifted back to you, her focus drawn by the quiet rise and fall of your chest as you slept.
The room was still, the only sounds the faint hum of the air conditioner and your steady breathing. Lena’s heart ached in a way she wasn’t entirely sure she understood. You had this maddening ability to disarm her without trying, breaking through walls she’d spent years constructing. She admired you for it—your warmth, your optimism, your unwavering belief in people—but it scared her, too.
One day, someone might hurt you, she thought, her stomach tightening at the notion. And yet, that same quality in you—the ability to trust, to see goodness even in the face of cynicism—was what she found most inspiring. You made her want to believe in people again, to see the world through your eyes, even if only for a fleeting moment.
She shifted on the couch, the book forgotten in her lap. Her gaze lingered on you, softening further as memories played in her mind: your laughter ringing through her office, the way you made even mundane things feel like adventures, the way you listened to her as if her every word mattered. She hadn’t realized how much she needed that until she met you.
Her lips curved into a small, private smile. You made her life lighter, easier, in ways she hadn’t known were possible. You made her feel—something she’d almost forgotten how to do.
For now, though, she was content to watch over you, silently vowing to keep you safe, even if it was just from yourself.
As the minutes ticked by, Lena's thoughts drifted to all the little things she adored about you: the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your passions, the warmth of your smile, the comfort of your presence. You made her want to be better, to strive for more, and she cherished that.
She let out a soft sigh, closing her book and setting it aside. It was hard not to feel protective of you, especially when she knew how easily you could be hurt by those who didn't appreciate your genuine nature. But she also knew she couldn't change who you were, nor did she want to. Your authenticity was part of what made you so special.
Hours passed, and the dim light of early morning began to creep through the curtains. Slowly, you stirred. Your eyelids felt heavy, your body sluggish, but you were aware of the soft blanket draped over you, its warmth a small comfort against the cool air.
Sitting up carefully, you blinked at your surroundings until your gaze landed on Lena, asleep on the other couch. Her book rested on her chest, slightly askew, as if she’d fallen asleep mid-sentence. Her head tilted just enough to reveal a relaxed expression, her features softened in a way you rarely saw.
You stared, caught off guard by how peaceful she looked. The commanding presence she wore during the day—sharp, confident, untouchable—was gone, replaced by something far gentler. It struck you how much she carried, the weight of expectations and responsibilities, and yet here she was, sitting up all night to make sure you were okay.
The memory of last night came rushing back: her steady hands guiding you inside, her quiet fussing as she got you comfortable, the way she seemed to know exactly what you needed without you having to ask. Lena always did that—saw through the chaos of life and found the one thing that mattered most.
Your chest tightened as you thought about everything you admired about her. Lena wasn’t just brilliant—though her mind was extraordinary, filled with ideas and plans you could only marvel at. She wasn’t just driven, her ambition blazing like a fire. What stood out most to you was her kindness.
Despite everything she’d endured—her family’s name, the shadows of their sins, the constant scrutiny—Lena had remained compassionate. She chose empathy when it would’ve been easier to build walls. She saw the best in people, even when the world gave her every reason not to.
Your thoughts lingered on her loyalty, fierce and unshakable. She protected the people she cared about with a devotion that bordered on self-sacrificing. You’d felt it in the way she supported you, a steady presence through every high and low, her quiet strength bolstering you when you couldn’t find your own.
As you sat there watching her, you couldn’t help but smile at the little things that made her so endearing: the way her laugh seemed to brighten even the darkest days, how she could make you feel like the most important person in the room when her piercing gaze locked onto yours.
And it was always the little things—how her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the way she remembered details about you that even you forgot. It wasn’t just attentiveness; it was care, pure and simple, and it made you feel... cherished.
Your hand moved instinctively, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Your fingers barely grazed her skin, careful not to wake her, but the touch left your heart racing. How many moments like this had there been, where Lena quietly gave so much of herself, and you had only just begun to realize what it meant?
You exhaled softly, leaning back into the couch. The feelings you’d been trying to ignore—dismiss as friendship, or loyalty, or gratitude—were undeniable now. Lena wasn’t just a friend. She was someone you admired, deeply respected, and, you realized with a quiet certainty, someone you loved.
You glanced at her again, her lips curving faintly in sleep as if she was dreaming of something light, something good. Your heart swelled at the thought. You hoped she dreamed of peace, of joy, of all the things she deserved but rarely allowed herself to have.
Taking the aspirin Lena had left for you, you washed it down with water, feeling the cool liquid ease the dryness in your throat. Your movements were slow, careful, as the remnants of last night clung to you. Turning toward the couch, you noticed the blanket draped over Lena had shifted slightly, leaving her shoulders exposed to the morning chill.
You walked over and gently adjusted the blanket, tucking it snugly around her. As your fingers brushed the fabric, Lena stirred faintly, her lips parting as she murmured your name. The sound was soft and her voice carried a warmth that made your chest tighten. She opened her eyes just enough to meet your gaze, her smile sleepy but genuine, before turning onto her side and drifting off again.
You lingered for a moment, watching her. The way her features relaxed in sleep, free of the stress and focus she usually wore, was mesmerizing. Her expression was serene, almost vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what she might be dreaming about.
Maybe she was dreaming of time before life had burdened her with expectations and responsibilities. You imagined her in a sunlit meadow, her laughter ringing out, unrestrained and carefree, the way you wished she could always be. Or perhaps her dreams were filled with the people she loved untarnished by the complications of attacks on her life or the hardships of her work.
You wanted her to dream of happiness, of peace, of everything she gave so selflessly to others but rarely allowed herself to have. Watching her now, her lips curving faintly into a smile, you hoped her dreams mirrored the happiness she brought into your life.
Lena, for her part, dreamed vividly. She found herself in a garden bathed in golden sunlight, the air sweet with the scent of blooming flowers. Here, the outside world didn’t exist. It was the place she dreamed off when she felt safe.
As she walked along a stone path, her fingers brushed against the soft petals of vibrant flowers. The sun warmed her skin, and the breeze carried with it a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in ages. Ahead of her, you stood beneath the wide, sprawling branches of a great tree, the dappled light dancing across your features.
You waved at her with that smile that always managed to disarm her. The one that had a way of grounding her, no matter how chaotic things became. Her heart fluttered as she approached, the rest of the world fading into insignificance until there was only you and the tranquil had surrounded you both.
You spoke to her in a soothing voice that always managed to put her at ease. She couldn’t quite catch the words, but they didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered to her was that you were there.
As she reached you, her hand instinctively sought yours. When your fingers entwined, she felt her body relax further. Whenever she was holding onto to you, she felt as if she didn’t have to bear by herself.
In her dream, the two of you sat beneath the tree, a book rested on both of your laps, though neither of you seemed interested in reading it.
Back in the waking world, you watched as her expression shifted, her lips curling into a gentle smile. Whatever she was dreaming of, it seemed to bring her peace, and that thought alone made your heart swell.
Lena had become someone you admired deeply, someone who made you want to be better simply by existing. You loved her, and that was something you would never be able to deny to yourself or anyone else. You wanted nothing more than to protect her, to give her even a fraction of the warmth and light she gave you. Reaching out, you brushed a strand of hair from her face, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly before leaning in a bit more into your warmth.
As you stood there, watching over her, you could only think of one thing. She deserves this peace—and you would do whatever you could to make sure she would it, both in her dreams and in her waking life.
Back in the waking world, Lena shifted slightly, her fingers curling instinctively around the blanket as she remained asleep. Her face was peaceful, her expression soft and unburdened. Watching her, you couldn’t help but marvel at how different she looked like this—free from the weight of responsibilities that so often pulled her under.
‘I hope her dreams are as beautiful as I see her’. You wanted her to have all the peace and joy she gave to others, even if it could only exist in her dreams.
Quietly, you got up from the couch, careful not to disturb her. The blanket shifted slightly as you stood, and you took a moment to ensure it stayed snug around her shoulders. The thought of preparing breakfast crept into your mind. It felt like a small gesture—insignificant, really—but it was all you could think to do to thank her for taking care of you the night before.
Moving into the kitchen, you began to gather ingredients, opting for something simple . As you worked, the gentle clatter of dishes and the soft hiss of the stove filled the space, the rhythmic sounds blending seamlessly with the quiet calm of the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to Lena as you chopped, stirred, and plated.
As the scent of coffee and freshly cooked food began to waft through the apartment, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind you. Turning, you saw Lena standing in the doorway, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a makeshift cape. Her hair was slightly tousled from sleep, and her eyes, though still heavy-lidded, sparkled with curiosity.
“Good morning,” she said, her voice husky and warm from sleep.
“Morning,” you replied, returning her smile as your heart gave an unsteady beat. How was it possible for someone to look so perfect so early in the morning? “I thought I’d make us some breakfast. A little thank you for taking care of me last night.”
Lena stepped into the kitchen, her gaze sweeping over the assortment of breakfast dishes you had prepared. Her lips curved into a smile that was as appreciative as it was surprised. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said, her voice carrying a note of affection. “But I’m glad you did. It smells amazing.”
“I figured it was the least I could do,” you said, shrugging lightly. “You’re always looking out for me. I wanted to return the favor.”
Lena’s expression softened as she stepped closer. She rested her hand briefly on the edge of the counter, her green eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to return the favor,” she said gently, her tone laced with sincerity. “I will always look after the people I love”
The words hung between you, and you tried focusing on the food in front of you as your heart raced. Does she know what she does to me? you wondered, your fingers tightening slightly around the spatula in your hand.
As the two of you worked together to set the table, the morning sun poured through the windows, bathing the room in a golden glow. Lena moved with her usual quiet grace, but you noticed the small moments where her hand lingered near yours or the way her gaze rested on you for a beat longer than necessary.
From her perspective, Lena couldn’t stop thinking about how thoughtful you were. She knew you well enough to recognize that this breakfast wasn’t just about gratitude—it was about you wanting to take care of her, just as she had taken care of you.
As she placed the last plate on the table, she glanced over at you, her heart swelling at the sight of you moving with such care and intention. You always make things feel lighter, she thought. Even the most ordinary moments seem special when you’re near.
Low music hummed softly in the background, blending with the clinking of forks and plates as you both sat down to eat. For a moment, everything else faded away—the weight of the past, the uncertainty of the future—and all that remained was this: a quiet morning, good food, and the undeniable bond you shared.
“This is perfect,” Lena said between bites, her eyes meeting yours. Her expression, usually so composed, carried a rare softness that made the moment feel special. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” you replied, your voice low but sincere. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Lena paused, her fork hovering over her plate for a second before she set it down. Her hand reached across the table, her fingers brushing yours before settling in a firm but gentle grip. “You would do just fine,” she said, her gaze steady. “but…lets just be glad we’ll never have to find out.”
For a brief moment, you forgot everything else. There was something grounding about the way she looked at you. It wasn’t just words; Lena meant every word of it.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and tasks, though your mind wandered occasionally to Lena. She had mentioned a business dinner in passing—a client meeting at some upscale bar You didn’t pay it too much mind since that was nearly a once a week type of occurrence with Lena.
Later that evening, Lena arrived at the upscale bar, its dim lighting and elegant decor setting the scene for the meeting. Her client, a polished executive with a charming smile, greeted her warmly. he conversation flowed easily at first, filled with the usual pleasantries and discussions of potential collaborations.
As the evening progressed, the client signaled to the bartender and ordered a round of drinks, insisting on toasting to their “promising partnership.” Lena accepted the glass with practiced grace, careful to pace herself. She’d been in enough of these meetings to know how to navigate them, but something about this man felt…off. His gaze lingered a moment too long, his charm a little too calculated.
The second round came faster than expected, and Lena’s unease deepened. She caught the subtle signal the client gave to the bartender—a brief, almost imperceptible gesture. She took a sip of her drink, her instincts on high alert as a strange sensation settled in her stomach.
Setting the glass down, she excused herself to the restroom, her voice calm but her mind racing. Inside, she leaned against the sink, gripping the edge tightly. Something’s not right. Her pulse quickened as she weighed her options. She wasn’t the type to overreact, but this wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
Pulling out her phone, she typed out a message with deliberate speed, her fingers trembling slightly as she hit send: Something’s wrong. Please come over.
She hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen. Of all the people she could have reached out to, it was you she trusted to show up. You always did.
The moment your phone buzzed, you glanced at the screen, Lena’s message instantly sending a rush of adrenaline through you. Your heart skipped a beat, and you didn’t waste a second before grabbing your keys and rushing out the door.
The drive to the bar was a blur. You knew Lena was strong and capable, but the urgency in her message told you she needed you now. As the city lights blurred past, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, one thought repeating in your mind: Please let her be okay.
As you pulled up to the bar, your eyes scanned the dimly lit exterior for any sign of Lena. The tension coiled in your chest tightened as you pushed through the doors, your gaze darting through the room until it landed on her. She was near the bathroom, leaning heavily against the wall, her movements sluggish and her eyes barely managing to stay open.
Her gaze lifted weakly, and when her eyes met yours, relief washed over her features. You crossed the distance quickly, your heart pounding.
“Hey,” you said softly, slipping an arm around her shoulders to steady her. “What’s going on?”
Lena leaned in close, her voice low and strained. “I think he put something in my drink. I didn’t have much, but... I feel off.”
Your jaw tightened, a protective surge of anger rising . The idea of someone daring to hurt her sent a cold fury coursing through you.
“I’ll get you out of here,” you said, your voice steady despite the chaos in your mind.
Lena nodded faintly, leaning on you as you supported her to her feet. You handed your card to a nearby worker under the pretense of paying for the drinks. In reality, you needed an excuse to return. As you led her out, you caught a glimpse of her client sitting in the booth, his jaw set and his eyes narrowing as he watched. His frustration at Lena bailing on him was evident, but with your back turned, he didn’t get a chance to see your face.
Outside, the night air seemed to help Lena regain some of her composure, though she still leaned heavily against you. You guided her to your car, helping her into the passenger seat with care. You adjusted the seatbelt and draped a spare jacket over her for warmth. As you shut the door and locked the car, you glanced at her, noting the way her eyes fluttered closed, her exhaustion evident.
“I’ll be right back,” you said, forcing your voice to stay calm. “I need to get my card.”
Lena nodded weakly, mumbling something you couldn’t catch before she drifted off.
But calm was the last thing you felt. The fury that had been simmering since you got her message now burned hot and relentless. The thought of someone trying to harm her—Lena—filled you with a cold, calculated rage. You turned sharply on your heel and stalked back into the bar.
The client was still there, slouched in the booth, his hand loosely gripping another drink. His smugness had faded into irritation, his expression sour as he simmered in his failure. He didn’t even notice you at first, too consumed with his own frustration.
Your steps were deliberate as you approached the bar. Instead of heading straight to him, you spoke quietly to the bartender, who gave you the same drink the client had been ordering all night with a little extra something.
Drink in hand, you approached his booth, masking your fury beneath a customer service smile.
“Rough night?” you asked, setting the drink down in front of him. “It looked like you could use another.”
The man glanced up, his irritation giving way to a flicker of suspicion. He seemed to weigh your intentions before assuming you were just a staff member trying to clear the air.
“Go on drink it, it’s on the house” You said as you were clearing the empty glass in front of him, and lena’s glass that was barely touched. Without much thought, he grabbed the drink and downed it in one go.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, his movements stilled, his hand twitching slightly as he set the empty glass down. He blinked, his face contorting in confusion as he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“What—” he managed to slur before his tongue grew heavy, his voice cutting off abruptly. His hands moved to his throat, his panic evident as he struggled to maintain control.
“You don’t look so good,” you said evenly, leaning in slightly. Your voice was calm, but your eyes betrayed the cold fury simmering beneath the surface. “Something wrong?”
His wide eyes flicked to yours, the dawning realization of what was happening clear on his face. He tried to push himself upright, but his arms gave out, and he slumped forward. His head hit the table with a dull thud, his breathing shallow and uneven as the drug took hold.
You watched him, your expression unreadable, as his movements grew sluggish and his body sagged further. “Guess you can’t hold your drinks,” you murmured as you spilled Lena’s drink all over his head.
You turned away after placing down the glasses and you went over, retrieving your card from the bartender before heading toward the exit. As you stepped into the cool night air, your anger ebbed just enough for you to focus on what mattered most: getting Lena home safe. The man’s fate didn’t concern you now—he’d might wake up eventually, or possibly not at all. It really didn’t matter, given that the bartender was the one to add the mixture into his drink, you were sure he wasn’t about to talk.
Back at the car, you climbed into the driver’s seat, the residual adrenaline still pulsing faintly through your veins. Lena was fast asleep in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and steady. She hadn’t moved an inch since you’d left her, the faint tension in her features now replaced with an exhaustion that tugged at your heart.
You started the engine, gripping the wheel tightly as you navigated the quiet city streets. The lights blurred past, their glow casting fleeting patterns across Lena’s face. You stole quick glances at her, the reality of the night sinking in. The thought of what could have happened—what almost happened—sent a fresh wave of anger and fear coursing through you.
As you neared her penthouse, the tension in your shoulders eased slightly. She was safe now. That was what mattered.
Once parked, you moved around to her side of the car, opening the door carefully to avoid waking her. She stirred faintly as you scooped her into a princess carry, her weight light against you. The act felt instinctive—she needed support, and you were willing to be whatever she needed.
The elevator ride was quiet, save for the soft hum of the machinery. Lena shifted slightly in your arms, her face pressing against your chest as she mumbled something incoherent.
Inside the penthouse, you gently set her down on the couch, arranging the cushions to make her comfortable. Her eyes fluttered open briefly, confusion flickering across her face before she relaxed again. You went to the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. By then, she was starting to wake fully, her gaze bleary but slowly focusing on you.
“I’m glad you were there,” Lena murmured, her voice soft and uneven as she took the glass. She sipped slowly, her movements measured as she fought off the lingering haze. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Always” you said, your voice low but firm.
Lena leaned back against the couch, her features soft but tired. You could see the traces of the evening still etched in her posture—the slight tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers lingered on the glass as though grounding herself.
As she finished the water, you took the glass from her, setting it gently on the coffee table. When you turned back, your hand found hers instinctively. The warmth of her skin beneath your fingers was steadying… she was safe, and within reach.
“Lena,” you began, your voice softer than you intended. The words felt heavy, weighed down by everything you’d been holding back. “when I got your message…. I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”
Her gaze met yours, “I know,” she said quietly, her voice filled with a calm sincerity. “I’m grateful you were there.”
The pause that followed was thick. The intensity of the night had stripped away the usual walls both of you had set up.
“Lena, I—” you started, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. You took a breath, willing yourself to continue. “I care about you. More than just as a friend. You mean the world to me.”
Lena’s eyes softened as her gaze met yours, her expression carrying an unguarded tenderness that made your heart ache. “I care about you too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but every word laced with sincerity. “More than I’ve let myself admit.”
Her confession lingered in the air between you, tangible and electric. For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of the words settling in. It was as if the room itself held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.
Your heart pounded, a mix of anticipation and hope building as you leaned in slightly. Lena’s eyes held yours, steady and unwavering, her expression open, waiting. But just as the distance between you grew almost nonexistent, you stopped.
Pulling back slightly, you saw the flicker of confusion in her eyes. She searched your face, trying to understand, and you felt the urge to explain before any doubts could form.
“I want to kiss you,” you admitted, your voice low and steady. “But not like this. Not when you’re still feeling the effects of whatever he put in your drink. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Lena blinked, her expression shifting into something softer, deeper—a mixture of gratitude and something else, something harder to name. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm and steady despite the lingering fatigue. “For being patient. For caring enough to wait.”
Her words settled into your chest, easing the tension that had coiled there all night. You nodded, relief washing over you like a tide. “In the morning,” you promised, the certainty in your voice surprising even yourself. “When you’re feeling better, we’ll talk more. About everything.”
A faint smile graced her lips as she leaned her head against your shoulder, the gesture so simple yet so intimate that it sent a quiet thrill through you. “I’d like that,” she said softly, her voice tinged with exhaustion but also a quiet contentment.
You wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as the city lights outside cast a faint glow through the window. The adrenaline that had carried you through the night began to fade, replaced by a deep, aching tiredness. But even as your body begged for rest, your mind remained focused on her—the weight of her leaning against you, the steady rhythm of her breathing, the warmth of her trust.
As her breathing evened out and her body relaxed fully against yours, you knew she’d fallen asleep. For a while, you stayed there, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. When you finally shifted, it was with the utmost care. You lifted her gently, carrying her to her bedroom and settling her into bed. She stirred faintly as you tucked the blanket around her, her lips moving in a quiet murmur you couldn’t make out.
You lingered for a moment, watching her, before retreating to the couch. The night’s events replayed in your mind as exhaustion finally pulled you under.
________________________________________
The first rays of sunlight crept through the curtains, warm and golden, as Lena stirred awake. She blinked slowly, the haze of sleep lifting as her mind pieced together the events of the night before. A wave of memory hit her—the bar, the drink, the fear, and then you.
Her chest tightened briefly as she glanced around the room, the quiet emptiness unsettling. The couch where you had settled for the night was empty, the blanket you’d used folded neatly on the armrest. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the uneasiness creeping in.
Where are you?
She pushed herself up, her body still heavy with lingering fatigue. Just as she was about to get up and look for you, the sound of a key turning in the lock reached her ears. She stilled, her heart skipping for just a moment before she turned toward the door.
There you were, stepping inside with careful precision, a tray balanced in your hands. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted through the room, and her eyes immediately found the two steaming mugs and the plates of breakfast.
Your eyes met hers, and you froze for a second, caught off guard by her awake gaze. Then, a smile broke across your face—warm, reassuring, and impossibly familiar.
“Good morning,” you said, your voice soft as you stepped further into the room.
Lena leaned back slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile as a quiet relief settled over her. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice still raspy from sleep. After a few moments she started to walk over toward you.
Before you could say anything, Lena reached up, her hands cupping your face with a tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. Her touch was warm, steady, and before you could even process the moment, her lips met yours.
The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it deepened quickly as you responded, your free arm instinctively wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet intimacy of her penthouse. Every unspoken word, every lingering glance from the past weeks and months, seemed to pour into that moment.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch up with what had just happened.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Lena admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Me too,” you replied, your fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face with a gentleness that surprised even you. “It was worth the wait.”
Her lips curved into a soft smile, and she let out a small, breathy laugh, the sound laced with relief and happiness. She pulled back slightly, though her hands remained on your shoulders. Her eyes sparkled, a lightness there that hadn’t been present in a long time.
“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she said, nodding toward the tray of breakfast on the table. Despite the teasing tone in her voice, her expression betrayed how deeply the gesture had touched her.
“I wanted to,” you said simply, your smile widening. “You deserve this—after last night, after everything.”
She chuckled, her laugh bright and genuine, chasing away the remnants of tension lingering from the night before. “Well,” she said, her tone playful as she slid her hand into yours, lacing your fingers together, “I’m not going to argue with that.”
She gave your hand a gentle tug, leading you back to the couch. Sitting down beside her, you watched as she picked up her plate, her movements uncharacteristically relaxed.
As you ate, you stole quiet glances at her, marveling at how everything felt the same yet so different.
Lena seemed to feel it too. Between bites, her gaze would flicker to yours, and every time your eyes met, her smile would grow a little wider, a little brighter.