The bathroom was dimly lit, the warm water lapping gently against your skin. Zayne leaned back in the tub, a book resting in his hands, his face softened by the candlelight. You rested against his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin and your breathing slow and steady as if on the edge of sleep.

The air was quiet, filled only with the faint rustle of pages and the rhythm of your shared calm. Zayne’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, his touch light, as the world outside faded away. In this moment, nothing else mattered but the warmth and stillness you both shared.

"Are you really asleep?" You suddenly heard his gentle voice asking.