The morning sunlight filtered softly through the lace curtains, painting gold patterns across the white sheets. Mirabelle sighed in sleepy contentment. She slept so well again—better than she ever remembered. Her body felt loose and warm, her mind light and rested. She stretched with a quiet yawn, eyes still closed, relishing the softness of her bed—until her hand brushed against something solid and warm.
Her fingers froze.
Slowly—terrifyingly slowly—she turned her head.
An arm.
A man's arm. Draped across her waist.
Her heart leapt straight to her throat.
"Wha—WHAT—!" she shrieked, jolting upright so fast the blanket flew off the bed. Grabbing the nearest pillow like a weapon, she began swinging with wild precision. "GET OUT! GET OUT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?"
The man groaned, blinking awake mid-attack. "Ow—Belle—wait—stop—what's—ow—what's happening—!"
She froze mid-swing, pillow raised high, her chest heaving. Then she saw his face.
"…Noah!?"
Noah Rolston—global superstar, EON's leader, her idol, and her ex-fiancé-from-another-life—sat on her bed, hair tousled, voice rough from sleep, looking unfairly gorgeous even half-conscious.
He rubbed at his temple, blinking up at her. "You're loud in the morning," he muttered groggily. "What's wrong?"
Mirabelle gaped at him. "What's wrong!? You're in my bed!"
He frowned faintly, glancing around the room as if confirming his surroundings. "...Yeah?"
"Yeah?" she repeated incredulously. "Why are you in my bed!?"
He sighed, as though she was the one being unreasonable. "Because this is where I sleep."
Her jaw dropped. "What—what do you mean this is where you sleep!?"
Noah ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to wake up fully. "I've been sleeping here for months now. I thought you knew."
She gasped. "Months!?"
He nodded, perfectly calm. "Your parents said this was my room."
Mirabelle's voice went shrill. "My parents would never tell you that! Even if we were engaged!"
He blinked, his confusion turning sheepish. "...So I misunderstood something again?"
She gawked at him. "You think!?"
For a moment, the room was silent except for her indignant breathing. Then another horrifying thought hit her. "Wait—you mean you've been here every night? All this time?"
He tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. "Mm. Not every night. Most nights, though. I come back really late, so you're always asleep when I arrive. And I leave early before you wake up." His mouth curved faintly. "You sleep like the dead."
Her face turned crimson.
Suddenly, every little thing from the past few weeks made sense—the faint warmth she always felt in the mornings, the lingering trace of cedar and cologne on her pillows, the vague sense of comfort that lulled her to sleep. She had dismissed it all as dreams.
She squeaked, "You—You can't sleep here anymore!"
Noah blinked. "Why not?"
"Because!" she sputtered helplessly. "We're not engaged! And even if we were, this is wildly inappropriate!"
He looked genuinely startled, his expression softening into something that made her heart stutter. "But…" he started, his voice quiet, almost boyish in its sincerity. "Please, Belle. Let me keep sleeping here."
He tilted his head, an almost innocent look crossing his face—though the faint curve of his lips suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. "I don't snore. I don't take much space." His voice dropped to a velvety murmur. "You never even noticed I was here before."
Her heart skipped. "That's not the point!" she said, trying to sound stern, even as her voice wavered.
He sighed softly, leaning forward just enough for the morning light to catch in his hair. "Belle," he said, and the way he said her name—slow, warm, deliberate—made something flutter low in her chest. "I don't sleep well anywhere else anymore. I keep waking up… reaching for you."
Her brain short-circuited. She stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to look away. "Y-you do?" she asked softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them, her voice shy and trembling.
Noah's lips curved slowly, his expression softening into something both tender and amused. "Mm," he hummed, reaching out a warm hand to slightly caress her cheek. "Can't help it. You make the whole room feel calmer. Maybe I got addicted."
Her face went scarlet. She couldn't look away from him—his tousled hair, the warmth in his eyes, the way his smile seemed to melt straight through her defenses. Her breath caught, and before she could stop herself, the word slipped out in a dazed whisper. "Wow."
He tilted his head, gaze sweeping over her flushed face. "You're blushing, Belle," he teased gently. "That's cute."
"I —!" she tried, but her voice cracked, and the sight of his grin made her forget how to breathe.
"Ah" he murmured, voice dropping lower, teasing but soft. "So you like it when I say things like that."
"I do?!" she squeaked, giggling despite herself, completely flustered. Then she blinked and swatted him weakly. "No, I do not!"
He leaned closer. "You really shouldn't look this adorable when you're trying to be mad at me," he whispered.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. "Noah, stop doing that."
"Doing what?" he asked innocently, even as his smile deepened.
"That!" she exclaimed, pointing at his face. "That look!"
He blinked slowly, feigning confusion. "This look?" he asked, eyes widening just a little, lashes batting in exaggerated slow motion.
She snorted despite herself, half laughing, half mortified. "You're impossible!"
"And yet," he murmured, still smiling, "you haven't told me to leave again."
She gawked at him, utterly scandalized—and maybe, just a little dizzy. "Noah Rolston, you can't just flirt your way into someone's bed!"
He smiled lazily, clearly pleased with himself. "It seems to be working."
"It's not—" She stopped, choking on her words again as she saw the look in his eyes. There was something in them—a quiet plea, almost desperate beneath the soft, sleepy charm that should not have been legal this early in the morning.
Noah's voice softened, low and unguarded, carrying a weight she hadn't heard before. "Please, Belle… just let me stay," he murmured, eyes searching hers. "You don't know what it's like out there. Every day, it's noise and pressure—interviews, cameras, expectations. Everyone wants something from me." He exhaled slowly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But when I'm here… when I fall asleep beside you, everything quiets down. I stop thinking. I actually rest." His gaze lingered, tender and tired. "It's the only place I feel at peace."
Her will crumbled like sugar.
Her expression wavered, her blush deepening as she looked anywhere but at him. "Oh… alright," she murmured shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I guess you can stay. But no cuddling, okay?"
Noah's grin was slow and devastating. "Of course."
But the moment he said it, he'd already wrapped his arm around her waist again, pulling her effortlessly back down beside him.
"Noah!" she protested, wriggling uselessly.
He only hummed, settling comfortably behind her, his chin resting lightly against her shoulder. "You're warm," he murmured sleepily. "Go back to sleep, Belle."
She opened her mouth to scold him again—then faltered. His voice was too soft and his warmth too familiar.
Her indignation melted into quiet drowsiness. "…Just this once," she mumbled weakly, before her eyes fluttered shut.
Within minutes, she was asleep again—and Noah held her a little tighter, content and at peace.