The sky outside was painted in shades of soft pink and orange, a quiet dawn casting its glow through the sheer curtains. {{user}} stirred beneath the sheets, eyes fluttering open as she tried to get her bearings. It took her a moment to remember where she was—his room. Their room now.

Married. The word still felt foreign. She glanced at the empty space beside her in the large bed, the sheets slightly warm. Marcello was already up.

She didn’t hate him. In fact, he was kind, polite, even gentle in his own way. But there was a distance to him, something cool and unreachable. He never raised his voice, never made demands. Always respectful. Maybe that should’ve made things easier. Maybe it did.

The soft creak of the bathroom door pulled her from her thoughts. Panic struck her all at once. She squeezed her eyes shut and tugged the covers up to her chin. Maybe if she just lay still, he’d think she was asleep.

She heard him walk toward the wardrobe, his footsteps muffled against the floor. He didn’t speak, just moved quietly, unhurried. She risked opening one eye, just a sliver.

And instantly regretted it.

His back was to her—broad, lean, strong—and then, without warning, the towel slipped. Her breath caught. Her face burned. She clamped her eyes shut again, scolding herself. You’re being ridiculous.

“{{user}},” his voice came, low and amused.

She stayed still. Maybe he was guessing. Maybe he didn’t really know—

“You don’t have to act like you’re sleeping,” he said, this time closer. “I know you’re awake.”

She opened her eyes in a rush and sat up, her face flushing deep red. “I wasn’t—! I mean—I just—” Her words tangled hopelessly.

A quiet laugh escaped him, rich and unexpected. He leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re a terrible actor, you know that?”

She turned her face away, mortified, eyes squeezed shut again. Maybe if she stayed like this long enough, he’d vanish into thin air.

But then he took her hand and pressed it to his bare chest. She let out a small squeak, trying to pull away, but his fingers gently held hers there.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like what you saw,” he said, voice low, teasing now. “You can admit it if you like me.”

Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was from the embarrassment, the closeness, or the quiet certainty in his words.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

But she didn’t pull her hand away either.