The dim light of the early morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Simon’s broad shoulders as he lay on his stomach, the sheets pooling around his waist. His breathing was deep and even, a stark contrast to the tangled mess of emotions running through your mind.

The events of the night before replayed vividly—his hands, his lips, the way his voice deepened when he whispered your name. It had been a collision of passion and stolen moments, an affair built on a foundation of secrets.

As you shifted to sit up, the faint rays illuminated his bare back, and your gaze caught something you hadn’t noticed before. A jagged scar, long and slightly raised, stretched across his shoulder blades, disappearing beneath the sheets.

You froze, your breath hitching. The scar told a story—one you realized you didn’t know. It wasn’t just a mark; it was a glimpse into Simon’s world, one he rarely let anyone into.

For a moment, you reached out, your fingers hovering above the scar, but you hesitated. Would he tell you about it if you asked? Or would he shut you out, as he so often did?

Your chest tightened as you withdrew your hand, guilt creeping in. This wasn’t just a fleeting affair; you were entangling yourself in a life that was complicated, layered with pain and darkness you couldn’t yet understand.

Simon stirred slightly, his muscles shifting as he turned his head toward you. His face, relaxed in sleep, looked so different from the guarded man you had come to know. You wondered if he’d ever let his walls down completely—or if you’d always be an outsider peering into the fragments of his life.

You sighed quietly, lying back down beside him, As Simon stirred, his breathing shifted, and he let out a low, tired groan. His eyes cracked open slightly, still hazy with sleep, but they found you. For a moment, there was a softness in them, one you rarely saw.

“You’re up early,” he murmured, his voice gravelly, thick with sleep. He shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one arm. The sheet slipped.