The hotel was the crown of the city, its topmost floor a kingdom of glass and quiet. Beyond the wide wall of rain-streaked windows, the rooftop spread out like a dark mirror, glistening under the downpour. The sky was a deep, bruised grey, heavy with storm, and each raindrop tapped against the glass like a muted warning.

He sat outside beneath the overhang, the city lights casting a faint gold against the smoke curling from his cigarette. His posture was unhurried, almost lazy, but the sharp lines of his face held that same silent authority that could make anyone think twice before speaking. The scent of rain tangled with the faint burn of tobacco, and somewhere between them was the ghost of his cologne.

Inside, the room was dim and warm, lit only by the soft glow of a lamp at the bedside. She lay stretched across the bed, hair fanned over the pillow, the sound of the rain and the faint drag of his cigarette filling the silence between them. The air was thick, not just from the storm, but from the words left unsaid after their fight.

It was the kind of quiet that was both safe and dangerous, cozy enough to make her want to stay buried in the blankets, yet tense enough that every shift of his gaze felt like a spark waiting to catch. And in that strange, suspended moment, the world outside did not matter. There was only the rain, the glass between them, and the pull neither of them could ignore.

She exhaled softly, the weight of the silence finally pressing her to move. Swinging her legs off the bed, she padded barefoot across the carpet, the muted city glow from the rooftop guiding her steps. She slid the glass door open, the cool night air rushing in, carrying the damp scent of rain.

He did not turn right away, only flicked ash from his cigarette, but when her bare feet touched the slick rooftop floor, he moved. Without a word, he reached for the towel draped over the couch beside him, shaking it loose before stepping toward her. The cigarette balanced between his fingers, his other hand wrapped the towel around her shoulders in one fluid motion, tucking it close to shield her from the rain.

"You'll catch a cold," he murmured, voice low but steady. Not an apology, not a truce, but something that made her chest tighten all the same.

She did not answer. She just stood there, wrapped in the heat of the towel and his lingering warmth, the sound of the rain folding over them both.