The car ride was quiet, except for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional honk of morning traffic. My fingers tingled from the warmth of his hand, and though part of me wanted to let go, I couldn't. The trust between us felt fragile, yet unshakable.
We turned down a side street, leaving the noisy downtown behind. The city slowly gave way to taller apartment buildings and quiet streets lined with trees. Finally, Ryan stopped.
"This is it," he said casually, gesturing to a sleek, modern building.
I squinted. "This… is your place?" I asked, incredulous.
He gave a faint smile. "Yes. Come on, you'll see."
We rode the elevator up, and when the doors opened, I froze. The apartment door slid open to reveal a huge, open space. Sunlight poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a sprawling bachelor-style living room with a minimalist kitchen tucked neatly to the side. The furniture was modern, stylish, and arranged with effortless precision. The floors gleamed, and the neutral colors somehow made the space feel warm and inviting instead of cold.
I stepped in, jaw slack. "Wow… it's… incredible," I whispered, almost breathless.
Ryan leaned casually against the kitchen counter, calm and unreadable. "It's fine. Comfortable, right?"
I shook my head, still taking in the apartment. Comfortable didn't even come close. It was four times the size of my tiny apartment, with high ceilings, a sleek sofa that practically begged for sinking into, and a dining area big enough for four. Even the bedroom, which I hadn't seen yet, looked like a sanctuary.
I hesitated, trying to find words. Finally, I asked, "Ryan… I… I need to ask… who are you, really? And… what do you do for a living?" My voice wavered, a mixture of curiosity and caution.
He shrugged lightly, his casual demeanor almost infuriating. "Just a regular salaryman at your company," he said smoothly, as if it explained everything. "Nothing impressive."
I blinked at him, trying to process it. "You… you expect me to believe that?"
He gave a faint, unreadable smile. "Believe what you want. I'm not here to impress you. Just… to make sure you're safe."
I shook my head slowly. The combination of his calm demeanor and the overwhelming size and style of the apartment made me feel a mix of awe and suspicion. This is… way beyond anything I've ever known.
He caught my glance. "It's okay to be overwhelmed," he said softly. "I don't mind. Take your time."
We walked slowly through the apartment. The living room was vast, with polished floors and a soft rug, and the kitchen gleamed with spotless surfaces. I ran my fingers along the countertop absentmindedly, feeling the cool smoothness beneath my touch.
Finally, he led me to the bedroom. My jaw dropped. The king-size bed was dressed in soft, neutral linens. Minimalist decorations lined the room—simple yet elegant.
"This… is where I'll be staying?" I asked softly, hesitant.
"Yes," he said, calm, almost matter-of-fact.
I hesitated, thoughts racing. "But… all my things are at my house. My stuff… my clothes… everything." My voice trembled slightly. I didn't want to go back to that house yet. I didn't want to face my stepfamily yet.
He took a step closer, gaze steady. "You don't need them," he said, sitting at the edge of the bed and watching me. "We'll go shopping. You can get whatever you need here. Clothes, basics… whatever makes it feel like yours."
I swallowed hard, relief washing through me, mixed with disbelief. "Okay… I… I guess I'll stay."
He gave me a small smile. Then he moved to a closet near the bedroom and pulled out a set of oversized clothes—soft, casual, clearly his. "For now. Something comfortable to change into."
I blinked. "Thank you," I whispered, my heart fluttering at the gesture.
I changed quickly, feeling the soft fabric swallow me. It smelled faintly of him—clean, faintly masculine—and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. The clothes were huge on me, but I didn't care.
"Like them?" he asked casually, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
I gave a small nod. "Yeah… very… comfortable." My voice faltered. "I… I don't know how to thank you."
He shrugged, smiling faintly. "You don't need to. Just stay safe. That's thanks enough."
That evening, we went out to buy essentials—clothes, toiletries, and a few personal items to make the apartment feel like mine.
"Do you think we need more towels?" I asked, holding up a small stack.
He glanced at them, expression neutral. "Two more. And grab some extra pillowcases. You never know."
I laughed softly. "You really plan for everything, huh?"
He smirked. "I like to be prepared."
Ryan didn't hover or rush me. He simply followed, offering guidance when I asked and occasionally teasing me about picking too many frivolous things. It was normal, domestic… peaceful. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe without fear.
Returning to the apartment, night had fallen. The city lights twinkled outside, giving the huge living space a cozy glow. I unpacked some of the small items we'd bought and arranged them in the bedroom. It felt… mine. Somehow, having these small possessions made this vast, bachelor apartment feel a little less intimidating.
As exhaustion pulled at me, I changed into the new pajamas that we had just bought and climbed into bed. My heart pounded as I wondered where to sit, where to lie down. The bed was enormous.
Ryan didn't hesitate. He sat at the edge, calm and steady, eyes watching me. As if knowing my hesitation. It's almost unsettling how he seems to know everything I'm thinking, even without me saying a word.
Then he said casually, as if stating an obvious fact: "We're married. Of course, we sleep in one bed."
I froze, blinking at him. "Of course," I whispered, heart hammering.
I crawled closer, almost instinctively, letting my head rest near his shoulder. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. He simply let me exist there, calm, steady, protective. The warmth of his body next to mine made my chest ache in a strange, new way.
We lay like that for hours, talking only softly when needed, sharing small laughs, brushing stray strands of hair from each other's faces.
"You're quiet tonight," he murmured at one point.
"I… I'm just… tired," I admitted, voice small. "And… happy, I guess. Scared too."
He chuckled softly. "Scared is okay. It means you're human."
Each subtle touch, each glance, made my heart flutter. The tension between us was electric, yet safe—intimate without pressure.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I curled against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath me, and slowly drifted off to sleep. He didn't move. He simply held space for me, and that was enough.
As I slept lightly, my mind wandered between disbelief and wonder. The apartment, the comfort, the marriage, the strange but undeniable pull of him—everything felt surreal. And yet, for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid.
Somewhere deep down, I realized this was only the beginning.