The soft golden light of the Fijian sunrise filters through the open balcony doors, casting a warm glow over the crisp white linens of your shared bed. A salty breeze dances through the airy room, carrying the distant sound of waves lapping against the shore. You stretch lazily, your fingers grazing the cool, empty side of the bed where Nicholas should be.

The faint creak of the bathroom door catches your attention, and a moment later, the bedroom door swings open. Nicholas steps inside, his damp curls tousled from his morning run, beads of sweat trailing down his toned chest. A towel hangs low on his hips, and the sight alone is enough to make your breath hitch.

His gaze meets yours—intense, unreadable—but the corner of his lips tugs up ever so slightly. “Morning,” he says, voice still husky from sleep and exertion.

Last night was the wedding. A marriage neither of you had chosen, bound together by the weight of family expectations and business empires. At first, it was awkward—polite smiles, guarded words, stolen glances when you thought the other wasn’t looking. But lately… things have changed.

He doesn’t complain about you. You certainly don’t complain about him.

You tuck the sheets closer to your chest, feigning nonchalance despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “You always wake up this early?”

Nicholas smirks, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand. “Old habit. You should come with me sometime.”

You scoff playfully, sinking back against the pillows. “Maybe when hell freezes over.”

A low chuckle escapes him, and for a fleeting second, the tension melts into something softer, something… almost natural.