The soft light of dawn spilled through the tall glass windows of Ryu's penthouse, painting the room in a pale gold. The city was waking up far below, but here, in the quiet of his bedroom, time felt slower… softer.
Meilin stirred first, the faint rustle of sheets pulling Ryu from his light sleep. She was still warm against him, her bare leg draped over his, her cheek resting on his chest. He didn't move — he just watched her for a moment, memorizing the rare peace on her face.
Last night had been… different.
It wasn't just the way she had touched him, or how she whispered his name like it meant something. It was the way she had let herself fall apart in his arms — and how he had wanted to catch her, every single time.
Her lashes fluttered open, and she looked up at him with that lazy, morning smile. "You're staring," she teased, voice still husky from sleep.
He smirked faintly. "I'm making sure you're real."
She rolled her eyes but leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. "I could say the same to you."
For a moment, there was no banter — just their breathing, steady and close. His fingers lazily traced patterns along the curve of her back, and she let out a quiet sigh, nuzzling closer.
But reality always crept back in.
"You know this doesn't change anything outside these walls," she murmured, her tone calm but edged with something unspoken.
Ryu's hand stilled. "Maybe. But it changes everything for me."
She met his gaze — steady, unreadable. "Don't get used to having me here, Ryu."
He didn't respond with words. Instead, he cupped her face and kissed her, slow but certain, as if to challenge that warning. She kissed him back, but there was a flicker in her eyes — something he couldn't quite read.
When she finally pulled away, she swung her legs off the bed and reached for her clothes, the early sunlight catching in her hair.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
She glanced over her shoulder with a faint, knowing smirk. "Somewhere I need to be. Don't follow me."
And just like that, Meilin was gone, leaving only the ghost of her perfume and the memory of her warmth in his sheets.
Ryu lay back, staring at the ceiling. His chest was tight, not from the night they shared, but from the way she had left — like she could vanish from his life as easily as she'd stepped into it.
He didn't know where she was going.
But he knew one thing.
If she thought he'd let her go so easily…
She was wrong.