We walked to the bedroom without saying much.
The hallway lights were dim, softer than usual, and every step felt heavier — like we were walking toward tomorrow whether we wanted to or not.
As soon as the door closed behind us, the outside world disappeared.
Just us.
Chak loosened his collar slightly and looked at me.
"You decide what I'll wear."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No pride.
Just trust.
I stepped closer to the wardrobe, running my fingers over the fabrics for a moment before turning back to him.
"You'll wear the shirt I bought you."
He tilted his head slightly.
"The one you bought?"
I nodded.
"Yes. I want you to wear something that came from me." I swallowed softly. "So you'll have one piece of me with you… even if I won't be standing right next to you all the time."
For a second, he just stared at me.
His expression changed — not the confident Chak everyone knew.
Just him.
Raw.
"Sometimes," he said quietly, stepping closer, "you don't even realize what you do to me."
His hand slid to my waist.
"I love you too much."
The words weren't dramatic.
They were heavy.
Honest.
I didn't answer with words.
I leaned up and kissed him.
Slow. Certain. Not shy this time.
Because if tomorrow belonged to politics, media, and expectations — tonight belonged to us.
When we pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his.
"When we get married," I whispered, "it will be different."
His fingers tightened slightly at my waist.
"Our wedding will be out of love."
I saw something flicker in his eyes.
"If I'm honest," he admitted softly, "I wouldn't even go tomorrow. I don't want to."
He exhaled.
"But if I don't show up, the media will tear everything apart. And my mother…" He paused. "She'll pressure me even more."
For the first time that night, he sounded tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
I wrapped my arms around him without thinking, holding him tightly.
"You won't face it alone," I said quietly against his chest. "I will always be by your side."
He didn't answer immediately.
He just held me.
Strong.
Protective.
Like he was afraid the world might take something from us tomorrow.
But no matter what cameras flashed.
No matter what his mother planned.
No matter how dramatic the day would be.
We had this moment.
And in that quiet bedroom, that felt stronger than anything waiting outside.
---
Chak disappeared into the bathroom, and a few seconds later I heard the water running.
I sat at the edge of the bed, staring at nothing.
This is my last night here.
The thought came quietly, but once it settled in my chest, it refused to leave.
Tomorrow, after the wedding chaos… after the cameras… after everything…
I would have to pack my suitcases.
And leave this house.
Leave our room.
The realization felt heavier than I expected. This place wasn't just walls and furniture. It was where we learned each other's silence. Where he first held me without fear. Where I fell asleep listening to his breathing.
The water stopped.
I quickly straightened my posture, trying to push the thoughts away.
Chak came out a few minutes later, his hair slightly damp, wearing simple lounge pants. He immediately looked at me — and I knew he noticed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Nothing," I replied too quickly.
He didn't look convinced.
"I'm just going to shower."
Before he could question me again, I slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.
Under the warm water, the thoughts returned even louder.
Tomorrow I leave.
Tomorrow this won't be mine anymore.
I tried to reason with myself. It was just a house. Just a building.
But it wasn't.
It was him.
After I finished, I changed into my pajamas and stepped back into the bedroom.
Chak was sitting in the armchair by the window, reading a book. Calm. Collected. Like tomorrow wasn't threatening to change everything.
I walked over to him without saying a word.
He looked up just in time for me to gently sit sideways on his lap.
My arms wrapped around his neck automatically.
He placed the book aside.
"What is it?" he asked again, softer now.
I rested my forehead against his shoulder.
"This is the last night we'll sleep in this house together."
The words sounded smaller out loud.
His hand immediately began stroking my back slowly, reassuringly.
"It won't be the last night," he said calmly.
I pulled back slightly to look at him.
"You'll stay here."
I frowned faintly. "What about Phalin?"
His jaw tightened just a little.
"She doesn't have access to this house."
And then he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss against my neck.
My breath caught.
"How are people at the wedding supposed to see that you're mine?" I murmured, letting my finger trace lightly over his chest, over the firm lines of his muscles beneath the thin fabric.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Bite me."
I almost laughed.
"I won't bite you," I whispered. "I'd rather kiss you."
A playful spark appeared in his eyes.
"You wouldn't dare kiss me like that in front of two thousand guests."
I tilted my head.
"That? No." I leaned closer, brushing my lips against his jaw. "But I can kiss you now."
And I did.
His cheek. His jaw. The corner of his mouth. Slow, deliberate kisses that made him exhale through his nose.
He suddenly stood up, lifting me effortlessly.
I let out a soft surprised sound as he carried me to the bed and laid me down carefully.
He leaned over me, and the kisses continued — deeper, but still tender. Not rushed. Not reckless.
Just us.
When I finally needed air, I gently pushed him back onto the mattress and shifted until I was lying on top of him, my head resting against his chest.
I traced a small circle over his heart with my finger.
"This," I said quietly, tapping once over his heartbeat, "is mine."
He didn't laugh.
He didn't tease.
His arms wrapped around me tightly.
"Yours," he agreed.
And in that moment, nothing about tomorrow felt stronger than the way his heart beat steadily beneath my hand.
I stayed there, listening to his heartbeat.
Slow. Steady. Strong beneath my palm.
Chak's fingers moved lazily through my hair, his touch softer than his reputation would ever allow people to imagine.
"You think too much," he murmured quietly.
"I know."
His chest rose under me as he exhaled. "You're not leaving this house."
I lifted my head slightly to look at him. "You can't just decide that."
A faint smirk appeared on his lips. "I decide many things."
"This isn't a business contract."
"No," he agreed, brushing his thumb along my cheek. "It's something far more important."
I studied his face in the soft bedside light. He looked calm — but there was something possessive in his gaze. Not suffocating. Just certain.
"You belong where you're loved," he continued quietly. "And that's here."
My throat tightened slightly.
"What if tomorrow changes everything?" I whispered.
"It won't."
"You can't promise that."
His hand slid down to my waist, holding me closer.
"I can promise you this," he said firmly. "No matter what happens tomorrow — media, my mother, guests, rumors — you won't lose me."
The way he said it made it feel less like reassurance and more like a vow.
Silence wrapped around us again.
I traced small, absent-minded lines across his chest.
"Two thousand people," I muttered. "That's insane."
"They're not there for love," Chak replied dryly. "They're there for power, alliances, curiosity."
"And drama," I added.
"And drama."
I shifted slightly, resting my chin on his chest.
"If someone tries to flirt with you," I said casually, "I might cause a scene."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
He let out a low chuckle. "I'd like to see that."
"I'm serious."
He tilted his head slightly, watching me with amusement. "You won't need to."
"And why is that?"
"Because I won't give anyone the chance."
The confidence in his voice sent warmth straight through me.
He leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against mine again — softer this time. Slower.
No urgency.
Just connection.
When we finally pulled apart, I rested against him again.
"Try to sleep," he murmured. "Tomorrow will be exhausting."
"You'll stay awake thinking, won't you?" I asked.
"Probably."
"About the wedding?"
He paused.
"No."
I looked up.
"About you."
My heart betrayed me again, beating faster.
I closed my eyes, letting his warmth wrap around me completely.
Tomorrow would be loud.
Tomorrow would be chaotic.
But tonight, in this room, in his arms —
I felt safe.
Morning came quietly.
For a moment, I didn't move.
Soft light slipped through the curtains, painting faint golden lines across the bed — across him.
Chak was still asleep.
His face looked different like this. No tension in his jaw. No guarded expression. Just calm.
I turned slightly onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow so I could see him better.
My fingers moved before I even thought about it.
Slowly, gently, I traced the line of his eyebrow… down the bridge of his nose… across his cheek.
His skin was warm.
I let my fingertip travel lower, over his jaw, down to his neck.
Then I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss near his temple.
Another along his cheek.
One at the corner of his mouth.
His breathing shifted slightly, but he didn't open his eyes yet.
"Artist…" his voice was low, still thick with sleep.
Before I could react, his hands suddenly gripped my waist and he flipped us effortlessly, pinning me beneath him.
His hair fell slightly over his forehead as he looked down at me.
"Isn't it too early for this?" he murmured.
I smiled up at him.
"For me, it's not too early."
One corner of his lips lifted.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
He narrowed his eyes playfully — and then attacked.
His fingers slipped to my sides and started tickling me.
I gasped, trying to twist away, laughing helplessly.
"Chak— stop—!"
He didn't.
Instead, he leaned down between the tickles and kissed me quickly, then again, then slower.
My laughter turned into breathless smiles.
"Careful," I warned him, trying to regain control. "Big dramatic day, remember?"
He hummed against my skin. "This is how I prepare."
I rolled my eyes softly, but my hands slid up to his shoulders.
Then the thought that had been hiding in the back of my mind slipped out before I could stop it.
"Are you going to kiss Phalin today?"
The question hung between us.
Chak stilled immediately.
His expression changed — not angry. Just firm.
"No."
I searched his eyes.
"My lips belong to you."
He didn't hesitate.
Not even a second.
The certainty in his voice erased the insecurity I didn't even realize I was holding.
"Only you," he added more quietly.
Something warm spread through my chest.
"Good," I whispered.
He leaned down and kissed me again — slower this time. Not playful. Not teasing.
Just real.
Outside that bedroom, cameras would flash.
People would watch.
Rumors would spread.
But right there, in that soft morning light —
His lips were mine.