The argument had been tense, the way Liam’s jaw locked, the way he said fine like it was a barrier instead of an answer. You walked away before he could stop you, pride burning hotter than the anger, hurt settling heavy in your chest where it lingered all day. He didn’t follow.

Night arrived, exhaustion pulled you under faster than you expected as sleep claimed you. You never heard the door open.

Liam stood there for a long moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He dragged a hand down his face, guilt tightening his chest. Slowly, he crossed the room. The mattress dipped as he sat, then again as he eased in beside you. One arm braced near your head as he leaned down, his lips brushing yours—light, tentative.

For a minute, you stayed asleep but then awareness rushed in all at once. Him. You pulled back instinctively, your palm pressing to his chest. He withdrew immediately, blue eyes searching yours, as if he needed to be sure that this meant to mend what he’d messed up, not become another mistake.

“I— I didn’t mean to wake you.”