Pippa stepped out of her room, still in her pyjamas, only to stop dead in her tracks. Her hip knocking straight onto the edge of the sofa.
"Fuck—nuggets," she hissed, grabbing her side as she winced.
She was wearing pink pajama pants covered in fluffy clouds, paired with a matching T-shirt that read In My Soft Era. Her hair was a complete mess, like she had quite literally just rolled out of bed and walked straight into this.
Then she looked up, and froze again.
"Am I hallucinating," she asked slowly, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand, "or is that actually Marcus standing right next to you?"
She squinted, as if that might help.
"I haven't had coffee yet, so this could still be a dream."
"It's him," I said, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
Beside me, Marcus's hand tightened around mine, like he enjoyed the confirmation.
"Huh," she said, already turning toward the kitchen. "Coffee, then? Anyone?"
"No thanks," I replied, shaking my head as she filled the kettle and flicked it on. "I'm going to bed. I haven't slept."
Marcus turned to me, a slight frown pulling at his brows. "You were awake the entire night?" he asked. "Tending to the sick?"
I gave a small shrug. "It's my job," I said, then lifted a finger between us before he could respond. "And before you say anything, I love what I do. This is just how the modern world works. We all have to work for a living."
He studied me for a moment, unconvinced. "And you are content," he asked slowly, "to give your labor without proper reward?"
"Not unless you're a man," Pippa chimed in dryly, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She took a sip, then glanced up only to find Marcus watching her with open confusion.
"Your father told me there is no longer a distinction between men and women in this age," Marcus said, his tone thoughtful.
Pippa let out a small huff, leaning against the counter. "He's a man," she said simply. "A smart one, sure...but still a man."
She took another sip before continuing, her voice lighter but edged with something real. "He wouldn't fully understand what women still have to deal with just to get where we are."
Marcus's brow furrowed slightly.
Pippa shrugged. "Some things don't change as much as people like to think."
"Well, I'm going to bed," I said, the exhaustion finally catching up to me as I slowly let go of his hand.
Just as I turned toward my room, Marcus followed. He reached for me without hesitation, pressing a tender kiss to my temple, his hand brushing gently through my hair in a way that made my chest tighten.
"Rest," he murmured. "I will remain here. There are matters I must discuss with Philippa."
Pippa perked up at that, pausing mid-sip before lowering her cup. She shot me a look, one that was far too knowing, then made a face, subtly mouthing I'll tell you everything.
I narrowed my eyes at her, just slightly.
Marcus didn't notice.
His attention was still on me, unwavering, as though he hadn't quite convinced himself I was real. It was like he was afraid that I would disappear the moment he looked away.
Despite myself, I smiled.
"Okay," I said softly.
I stepped into my room, pulling the door almost closed, leaving it just slightly ajar before finally letting out a breath. The quiet wrapped around me instantly. So I didn't bother to waste yet another second.
My scrubs came off in a tired, clumsy motion, discarded onto the chair as I changed into something softer, an oversized T-shirt and a pair of worn shorts. But even as I moved through my routine, my mind refused to settle, lingering just beyond the door.
On him.
Waiting.
I let out a quiet breath, running a hand through my hair as I hovered near the edge of my bed, hesitating instead of collapsing into it like I knew I should.
It was ridiculous.
Like some helpless, foolish girl, I found myself wondering if he would come in. If he would stay out there instead, standing guard like some ancient Roman soldier, as if I needed protecting in my own flat.
My lips pressed into a thin line.
What could he possibly be saying to Pippa?
Surely it couldn't be that important.
I almost walked over to the door then, their hushed voices faintly drifting into the quiet of my room. But the thought died as quickly as it came. I was exhaustion, bone-deep and aching with it. And right now, sleep mattered more than satisfying my curiosity.
Besides, whatever it was, I could always ask him when I woke up.
So I let out a quiet breath and finally crossed the room, climbing beneath the soft cotton duvet. The warmth wrapping around me instantly, easing some of the tension from my body as I settled against the pillows and closed my eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself forget the rest of the world for awhile.
I didn't know how long I slept for.
All I knew was the warmth, cocooned around my body. Steady, heavy too. Surrounding me from behind in a way that made me felt deeper into the mattress before my mind had even fully woken.
Then I felt it. The slow rise and fall of someone's chest against my back. A steady breath near my neck.
I stirred faintly, my eyes fluttering open as reality settled over me piece by piece.
Marcus's arm was wrapped securely around my waist, holding me against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. His face was buried against the side of my neck, his breathing slow and even, warm against my skin.
For a moment, I longed for time to stay simply like this.
The way the quietness of the room wrapped around us softly, muted by the pale afternoon light slipping through the curtains. I could still feel the weight of sleep pulling at me, but beneath it was something else entirely.
It was peace.
Carefully, trying not to wake him, I turned in his arms until I was facing him. Even asleep, he looked intense. The hard lines of his face softened only slightly by rest, dark lashes resting against his skin, his hair falling carelessly over his forehead.
It struck me then, all over again, how impossible he was. A man pulled from another lifetime, lying in my small bed like he belonged here. Like he belonged to me.
My hand lifted before I could stop myself, fingertips brushing lightly over his cheek.
His brow shifted almost immediately.
Then slowly, his eyes opened.
Dark, heavy with sleep at first before they settled on me completely, sharpening then softened with recognition.
"Elena," he murmured, his voice roughened by sleep.
Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I swallowed, my hand still against his face as I searched for the words. They felt strangely frightening now that they were here, sitting between us, waiting to be spoken aloud.
"Marcus, I think..." My voice faltered slightly, softer than I intended. "I think I might be in love with you."
For a moment, Marcus simply stared at me. Not with the certainty he always carried, but with something else. Like he was surprised.
His hand came up slowly, covering mine where it rested against his cheek, as though he needed to remind himself that I was real. I watched the way his throat shift as he swallowed, his gaze searching my face with an intensity that suddenly felt too raw to bear.
"You undo me, Elena," he said softly, almost like he was in disbelief his forehead resting briefly against mine. "In all my years, I have never known weakness such as this."
His expression softened in a way I had never seen before. His thumb brushing gently beneath my eye, before he finally kissed me.
Slowly this time, deeply. Like he was savoring something sacred.
I melted into him instantly, my hand sliding into his hair as he pulled me closer against him, the warmth of his body surrounding mine completely. The kiss lingered, unhurried, until I could barely remember where I ended and he began.
When he finally pulled away, it was only enough for his lips to brush softly against mine as he spoke. "I love you too," he murmured. "More fiercely than I have ever loved anything in this life...or the last."
Then he kissed me again, the world disappearing along with it.