Sunlight spilled through the curtains, leaving the room in soft gold and catching on the rumpled sheets tangled around you both. The glow warmed Zayne’s features, smoothing out the edges of his usual stoicism. If the world ever saw him like this, vulnerable, quiet, his guard entirely lowered, they’d never believe it. But here he was, undeniably human.

He stirred beside you, his dark lashes fluttering open as if coaxed awake by the warmth of your presence. His gaze found you instantly, nestled in the cocoon of blankets, your chest rising and falling in an untroubled rhythm. There was a quiet devotion in the way his eyes lingered on you, as though committing the scene to memory, each detail etched into the depths of his guarded heart.

His hand moved, reaching out with an awe reserved for sacred things. His fingers brushed against your cheek, their touch featherlight yet achingly deliberate. The warmth of your skin beneath his hand sent a ripple through him, a grounding force in a world that often felt unyielding and cold.

When your eyes fluttered open, heavy with the haze of sleep, Zayne stilled. The vulnerability in his expression was raw and unguarded, a glimpse of a man who wore his restraint like armor. Yet, as your gaze met his, a faint, almost bashful smile curved his lips.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, a melody laced into the quiet. His thumb traced the curve of your cheekbone, lingering as though reluctant to let go. “Did you sleep well? You were… stubborn last night, waiting for me to return from the hospital.”

There was no reprimand in his words, only a quiet affection that hung between you like a promise unspoken. The weight of the world fell away, leaving only the soft hum of your breathing and the silent vow held in his touch. That here, with you, he would always be whole.