Barbie's POV
The rain had a way of changing the air.
It wasn't just the sound of it tapping against the glass, though that was hypnotic enough. It wasn't even the smell of the damp earth rising through the half-open balcony doors. No—what caught me most was how the rain made everything else fade, like the world outside had been swallowed up, leaving only this space. Only him. Only us.
Mark's arm was draped lazily across my waist, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm against my back. We lay tangled on the wide sofa in his living room, a quiet warmth cocooning us as the storm outside grew stronger. The flicker of the fireplace across from us lit his features in shades of gold and shadow, making him look less like a man and more like some dream I'd stumbled into by accident.
But dreams never lasted long. I knew that.
"Mark?" My voice was soft, almost unsure, though I hated myself for letting him hear the hesitation.
