The morning sun slipped in gently, as if afraid to disturb what the night had woven.
Hiya stirred first — nestled against the warmth of Dev's chest, his breath soft against her forehead, his arms still around her like instinct. She didn't move, afraid that any shift might dissolve the dream.
But this wasn't a dream.
Her bare leg was tangled with his.
Her skin still hummed where he had kissed her, touched her, entered her.
And her heart — oh, her heart — felt both full and fragile.
Last night had been quiet, sacred. No fireworks, no wild surrender. Just breath… skin… and the sacred, clumsy beauty of two firsts blending into one.
She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him.
But his grip tightened.
"Where are you going?" he mumbled, voice husky with sleep.
Her cheeks turned warm. "Nowhere…"
Dev opened his eyes slowly. Still drowsy. Still disarmed.
And then — he smiled.
Not his usual smirk.
Not the tight-lipped restraint he wore like armor.
But something open. Quiet. Boyish.
"You're really here," he whispered, as if still convincing himself.
She nodded, the lump in her throat rising unexpectedly. "I am."
A beat passed.
He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and brushed his knuckle across her cheek.
"Does it… hurt?" he asked, gently, shyly.
She shook her head. "Not like I thought it would."
Then added, her voice barely audible, "I think my heart hurts more."
His brows furrowed, worried.
She placed a hand on his chest.
"Not from pain. Just… from how full it feels."
Dev exhaled deeply, like something inside him unclenched. He kissed her hand.
"Mine too," he said.
They stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled, the sheets holding the warmth of their union. No need for words. Just the quiet intimacy of shared breath.
Later, he coaxed her to sit up. She winced slightly, and he was immediately there — adjusting the pillows, slipping a shawl over her shoulders.
"Don't move too much. You're not going anywhere today," he said, pouring warm water into a copper tumbler.
She watched him — the careful tilt of his fingers, the silent way he moved through the room like he belonged to it… to her.
"You're being very serious, Doctor Dev," she teased gently.
"I take my patients seriously," he replied, without missing a beat. "Especially the ones I…"
He paused.
She tilted her head. "The ones you…?"
He looked at her then, all traces of sleep gone from his eyes.
"The ones I can't live without."
Her breath hitched.
She didn't know how to answer that. So she leaned forward and kissed him. Soft. Slow. Barely there.
It was the first kiss she gave.
He pulled her closer, his hand at the small of her back, cradling her as if she might vanish.
And just like that — they slipped back under the blanket.
No urgency.
No destination.
Just mouths tracing slow promises, fingertips painting invisible poetry across each other's skin.
Later, after noon light spilled through the window, Dev held her against him and whispered:
"If I could stop time, I'd stop it right now."
Hiya smiled against his collarbone.
"Then promise me something."
"Anything."
"Let's never go back to silence."
He nodded, forehead resting against hers.
"Never again."