Morning light filtered softly through the window. I stretched, blinking away sleep, and noticed he was already in the living room. Coffee sat steaming on the table, the faint smell of it mixing with the quiet hum of the early day. He was on the couch, casually leaning back, watching the muted TV, calm and collected as always.
I padded over and sat down beside him.
"Morning," I said softly.
He glanced at me, just a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his usual calm returned. "Morning," he replied.
I took a sip of the coffee he'd made. "Thanks," I murmured, not looking at him directly.
"For what?" he asked.
"For… this. For letting me stay."
He smirked slightly. "You're welcome. But really, you can stay as long as you want. No limits."
I smiled faintly, letting the comfort of it sink in. Somehow, knowing I had a choice and he wasn't pressuring me made everything feel lighter. I kept my gaze on the table, pretending not to notice him glance at me once or twice, careful, measuring.
The day passed quietly. We moved through chores, tidying up, and fixing things around the house. We didn't talk much, but every so often, our eyes would meet, and I'd feel a warmth that was more comforting than anything I could put into words.
By the time night fell, the room was bathed in a dim, golden glow from the lamps. I yawned and stretched, and he looked at me, silent, waiting.
"You can… stay," he said quietly, almost as if confirming it for himself.
I nodded. "I am."
Without a word, I climbed into the bed we'd been using, curling up under the blankets. He followed, careful, sitting beside me. For a moment, he just watched me, silent, as I relaxed against the pillows. Then, almost imperceptibly, he shifted closer, letting me rest my head against his shoulder.
The night stretched around us in quiet ease. His arm came around me, steady and warm, holding me close enough that I could feel his presence but not smothered. I breathed out slowly, the tension of the past weeks finally easing.
I slept that night with a new kind of comfort—the kind that came from trust, safety, and a quiet closeness that didn't need words. He didn't push, didn't whisper, didn't make a scene. He simply held me while I slept, letting me rest, letting me feel… okay.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.