I woke up to the sensation of a thumb gently stroking the back of my hand.
My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim, warm lighting of the cabin. For a moment, I felt panic. Was I back in the hospital? In the basement?
But no... It was just Yichen.
The scent of his cologne and peach blossoms wraps around me like a blanket.
I turned my head. Mo Yichen was sitting exactly where I had left him hours ago, across the small table from me.
His shirt was rumpled, his hair messy in a way that made him look devastatingly handsome, and his grey eyes were fixed on my face with a softness that melted my bones.
Our fingers were still interlaced on the white tablecloth. He hadn't let go. Not once.
"We're descending," he said, his voice rough with sleep but warm. "Look."
He gestured to the window. I sat up, blinking the sleep away, and pressed my face to the cool glass.
I gasped.
