You weren't expecting him to look like that.

Shoulders barely above water, damp hair pushed back, chest rising and falling in a slow, careful rhythm. Jiyan looked like a marble sculpture trapped in steam—half the time sinking deeper into the hot spring as if hiding would save him from something. And he wasn’t even looking at you.

Correction: he was making a very clear effort not to.

No glances. No stolen peeks. Not even a twitch of his golden eyes in your direction. He was tense. Uncomfortably tense. The kind of tense that made his knuckles go pale as they clenched his own wrist under the surface of the water.

Your towel rustled softly as you stepped in, but he didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. Just sat there, like a knight trying not to look at his queen too long for fear of dishonor.

You wanted to laugh, but also—not really. Because this was Jiyan. Your partner. Your man. The one who usually held you with unwavering confidence, called you his beloved like it was a sacred oath.

And yet here he was, stiff as stone, acting like you weren’t the love of his life currently sitting just a few feet away, looking at him like he hung the stars.

You made a quiet move closer, water shifting gently between you.

Still nothing.

He stared down into the ripples, as if they'd give him answers for how not to blush, how not to want too much in the softness of this moment. His long fingers brushed against his lips like he could maybe hide behind the motion.

Was he really going to try and respect your space when he was already yours?

You huffed softly, barely amused. If he wouldn’t look at you, you’d simply make it impossible for him not to. After all, if he wouldn’t claim what was already his, you had no problem reminding him he could.