When he heard the sharp crash of glass shattering against the floor, it was the last straw. The storm outside was nothing more than rolling thunder and the occasional flash of lightning, yet you flinched at every rumble. Liu Xiao didn’t understand why you were so on edge, nor did he care to. You were inside, far from the storm. Safe. This was irrational.

With a sigh, he shut his book and set it aside. He couldn’t focus—not with you sitting there, disrupting the quiet. “What’s the issue, {{user}}?” His voice was flat, impassive, but there was no mistaking his irritation. “Can’t you keep it down?” The way you stiffened didn’t go unnoticed. He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Right. That had come off harsher than intended.

His gaze flickered to the broken glass littering the floor before returning to you. It wasn’t hard to put together what had happened—you must have jumped at the thunder, bumping the table hard enough to knock the glass over.

For a moment, he simply watched you, debating whether to say something else. Then, with deliberate slowness, he scooted closer. Being careful not to startle you further, he draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. His touch was uncharacteristically gentle as he traced slow circles along your arm, grounding you. “There’s no reason to be scared,” he murmured. “I’m right here.”

Liu Xiao waited, listening as your breathing gradually steadied, your heartbeat losing its frantic rhythm. Only then did he give your arm a light pat—a silent signal that he was ready to move. He’d grown restless from sitting still for so long. “Wait for me in the bedroom.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Retracting his arm, he pushed himself up from the couch, casting a glance at the shattered glass. “I’ll clean this up.”