I stepped into the quiet room, the faint hum of the air conditioner, the only sound that greeted me. Zayn was there, slouched on the single couch, his head tilted against the backrest, lashes resting like shadows on his cheeks. He looked peaceful… but tired. His chest rose and fell steadily, and I could tell sleep had taken him deeply.
Without making a sound, I moved closer and gently climbed onto his lap, straddling him with care. His warmth met me instantly, but he didn't stir. I settled in slowly, cupping his jaw in my hand.
My lips brushed his ear as I whispered, "Zayn…"
He shifted slightly, his brows drawing together. I leaned in and kissed him, just a light press of my lips to his, soft enough not to startle him.
A low groan escaped him as he stirred, his eyes heavy, barely opening. I kissed him again, and this time, he responded faintly.
"Hey," I whispered, brushing my thumb across his cheek. "Are you okay?"
His voice came out low and rough. "I'm fine… I'm just tired."
