The morning light filtered gently through the curtains of Ryan's room, spilling a golden glow across the floor and creeping onto the bed where Mia stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered as her eyes slowly opened. For a moment, she blinked in confusion—this wasn't her apartment. Then the memories returned, and her chest tightened: the kidnapping, the fear, and then Ryan's voice promising he would never leave her.
She shifted slightly and realized a weight was near her. Turning her head, her breath caught. Ryan was sitting in a chair pulled close to the bed, his arms folded and his head tilted to the side. He had fallen asleep watching over her.
Even in sleep, he looked tense, his jaw sharp, his brows faintly furrowed as though guarding her even in his dreams. Mia felt her heart ache at the sight.
Quietly, she whispered, "Ryan…"
His eyes opened instantly, sharp and alert like a warrior trained for danger. But when his gaze fell on her, his features softened. "You're awake," he said, his voice husky from sleep.
"Yes," she whispered back, giving him a small smile. "And you… stayed here all night?"
"I told you I wouldn't leave," Ryan replied simply. He stretched slightly but didn't move away, his gaze sweeping over her face as if checking for any sign of pain. "How do you feel?"
"Better," Mia admitted. "Tired… but safe."
Something flickered in his golden eyes at her words, a mixture of pride and relief. "Good," he murmured. Then, almost shyly, he stood. "Stay here. I'll bring you something to eat."
Mia blinked, amused. "Ryan, you don't have to—"
But he was already gone before she could finish.
Minutes later, the smell of toasted bread and eggs drifted into the room. Ryan returned, holding a tray with surprising care. He set it down on the bedside table and moved it closer to her.
"You… made this?" Mia asked, raising an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.
Ryan's lips twitched into the faintest smirk. "I'm capable of more than looking intimidating and giving orders, you know."
Mia giggled softly, the sound warming the air between them. "I'll believe it when I taste it."
He handed her the plate, watching closely as she took the first bite. Her eyes widened. "Ryan… this is actually good!"
"'Actually'?" he repeated, pretending to be offended.
She laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry, I just didn't imagine you in a kitchen."
"Well," he said, leaning closer, his voice low and teasing, "there are a lot of things about me you haven't imagined yet."
Her cheeks flushed at the implication, and she quickly looked away, focusing on her food. "Don't say things like that so early in the morning."
Ryan chuckled, the sound deep and rare. For a moment, it felt like everything outside the room—packs, enemies, schemes—didn't exist. It was just them, sharing breakfast and a quiet morning together.
After she ate, Ryan cleared the tray without being asked. When he turned back, Mia was watching him with soft eyes.
"What is it?" he asked.
She hesitated, then said, "You were always so cold to me at first… but now… you're different."
Ryan paused, his gaze locking with hers. Slowly, he came to sit beside her on the bed. "Maybe I was afraid," he admitted. "Afraid of what I'd feel for you. But I can't keep pretending anymore, Mia. You matter to me."
Mia's heart raced. She wanted to reply, to say what she was feeling, but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she smiled faintly, reaching out to brush his hand with hers.
That simple touch was enough.
For Ryan, it was a promise. For Mia, it was a comfort.
And for both of them, it was the beginning of something new.