At first, the whole arrangement was very straightforward.

No expectations. No messy entanglements. And, probably the most important one—no feelings. Just the simplicity of stolen moments between shared sheets.

Yet here you are, watching him button his shirt, his back turned to you. Feeling a painful squeeze in your heart because you couldn't follow those simple rules.

"Don't make it harder than it needs to be," he mutters, his voice softer than usual, but the message just as clear, "We keep it casual. You agreed to it."

You can't see his face. Can't see the flicker of vulnerability colouring his features for a moment. What was it? Regret? Sadness? Maybe both.

One thing is certain.

You want more from someone who swears he has nothing to give.