After a few hours, Laura slowly opened her eyes.
For a moment, she didn't move. She lay still, letting awareness return piece by piece, unsure where she was. The first thing she noticed was warmth—steady, surrounding her. The second was the sound of breathing, slow and even, so close that it felt almost like her own.
She was lying directly in front of Tomas.
Their faces were only centimeters apart, close enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his breath against her skin. His arm rested securely around her waist, holding her in a loose but unmistakably protective way, as though his body had decided on its own that she belonged there. Her own hand lay gently against his chest, fingers lightly curled in the fabric of his shirt, rising and falling with each calm breath he took.
The realization made her heart tighten.
Why do I feel so good with him?
Why does this feel… right?
She stayed still, afraid that even the smallest movement might break the fragile calm surrounding them. Her gaze traced his face slowly, carefully, as though committing it to memory. In sleep, Tomas looked softer. His features, usually composed and guarded, had relaxed completely. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes in uneven strands. Long lashes rested against his cheeks, and his lips were slightly parted, giving him an almost vulnerable look she had never seen before.
Something warm bloomed in her chest—quiet, comforting, and frightening all at once.
With him… I feel safe.
Safer than I've felt in years.
And then, like a blade of ice cutting through that warmth, fear surfaced.
If my uncle finds me… I'll have to run again.
I'll lose this.
I'll lose him.
Her throat tightened as she stared at Tomas, the weight of reality pressing down on her. Safety was never permanent for her. It never lasted. Every place she had ever called home had eventually become a place she had to escape.
Better not get attached, she told herself.
Getting attached only makes it hurt more when you leave.
Outside, night had already fallen completely. The rain had stopped, but the world still carried its presence. Heavy droplets slid lazily from leaves and rooftops, falling with soft, rhythmic taps. The air drifting in through the slightly open window smelled clean and fresh—wet earth, damp pavement, and something faintly metallic. The city felt quieter than usual, as if holding its breath.
Tomas stirred beside her.
He inhaled deeply, his body shifting just a little, his arm tightening around her waist for a brief second before relaxing again.
Panic shot through her.
Laura squeezed her eyes shut instantly, her heart pounding as she pretended to still be asleep. She focused on slowing her breathing, forcing it into a steady rhythm that matched his.
But Tomas wasn't fooled.
With a soft chuckle—so quiet it barely disturbed the room—he lifted one hand and brushed the tip of her nose gently with his finger.
She blinked, caught.
Their eyes met.
Tomas was smiling.
It wasn't his usual faint, reserved smile. This one was warm, open, genuine—the kind that reached his eyes and softened his entire face. Seeing it made Laura's chest ache in a way she didn't fully understand.
"Not sleeping anymore?" he asked softly, his voice rough and low with lingering sleep. "Did you rest well?"
Her cheeks warmed instantly.
"Not anymore," she whispered. "But… I haven't slept this peacefully in a long time."
He studied her face for a moment, as if weighing her words.
"And you?" she asked quietly.
"I rested pretty well too," he replied.
Good, he thought. Laura feels better.
First point on the list completed.
Laura carefully sat up, stretching her arms above her head as she tried to shake off the heaviness of sleep. She glanced toward the window, where streetlights shimmered across the wet pavement, their reflections stretching like golden ribbons along the road.
"I feel a bit heavy after all those snacks," she said with a small laugh. "Want to go for a walk? It looks really beautiful outside."
Tomas scratched the back of his head, then smiled.
"I was actually about to suggest the same thing."
They dressed warmly, pulling on coats, hats, and scarves before stepping outside into the crisp, damp evening air. The cold brushed against Laura's cheeks, sharp but refreshing, grounding her in the moment.
"There's a nice park nearby," Tomas said, pointing down the street. "We can go there."
"Okay," she replied with a soft smile.
But as they walked side by side, her thoughts grew heavier.
Should I tell him about my uncle?
What if he gets scared?
What if he asks me to leave?
She hated lying—especially to him—but the truth felt dangerous, sharp-edged and heavy in her chest.
Beside her, Tomas walked in silence, his hands tucked into his pockets. His own thoughts churned.
Should I tell her that her uncle is already looking for her?
That my parents worked for him?
Will she panic? Will she run again?
They reached the park without realizing how far they'd walked.
Tall trees lined winding paths illuminated by warm yellow lamps. The ground was still damp, leaves glistening faintly under the lights. Somewhere nearby, a quiet stream flowed beneath an old wooden bridge, its soft murmuring blending with the distant hum of the city.
They found a bench and sat down.
At the same time, they both spoke.
"I want to—"
They stopped, startled, then laughed softly.
"You go first," Tomas said gently.
Laura inhaled shakily. Her hands trembled in her lap.
"There's something I need to tell you," she said. "About myself."
She swallowed hard.
"I don't really have a family," she continued. "Just my uncle. He took me in when I was little. But he…" Her voice cracked. "He kept me locked up. Like a prisoner."
Without hesitation, Tomas reached for her hand, holding it firmly yet tenderly.
Encouraged, she continued.
"He's the director of a large pharmaceutical company—NovaCure. My mother was sick when I was young. She tried their medications, but she still died. After that, she left behind some documents. My uncle thinks I have them, so he's been searching for me. And I'm scared… If he finds me, he might hurt you too, and—"
Tomas gently lifted her hands, drawing her closer.
"I already know," he said softly.
Laura froze.
"What?" she whispered. "How?"
He explained calmly, telling her about the men outside the bar, the photo, the overheard conversation. Then he added, more quietly:
"My parents worked for NovaCure too. They died in a car accident."
Tears gathered in Laura's eyes.
"But don't be afraid," Tomas said, squeezing her hand. "As long as you're with me, no one will take you anywhere."
She broke down, burying her face in his jacket.
"I'm scared," she cried. "That because of me something will happen to you."
"Don't worry," he murmured, stroking her back. "I can protect you."
She pulled back, wiping her tears.
"I'm sorry… I was afraid you'd push me away."
Tomas brushed the last tear from her cheek.
"I won't."
They spent the rest of the evening walking, talking, laughing—opening up piece by piece.
When they returned home, Laura paused at the door.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For staying."
"This is your home," Tomas replied.
And for the first time in a long while, they both believed it.