It's different now.
The sun is in the room.
Not hidden behind blackout curtains.
Not avoided.
It's welcome.
Warm, soft light spills across the sheets. Your shoulder. His chest.
He's still asleep.
Bare skin tangled in yours.
His arm draped across your waist like it belongs there.
Like it's always belonged there.
Because it does.
And for once—
you're not thinking about how wrong it is.
You're thinking about how right it feels.
___________________________________________
He traces his fingers lazily down your spine.
"So what now?"
You press your cheek to his chest.
"Now… we stop pretending."
"No more hiding. No more running."
"No more one bed, one night, one lie."
He exhales. Like he's been holding that breath for years.
"You gonna tell them?" he teases, lips brushing your forehead.
"Eventually."
"Today?"
"Don't push your luck," you smile.
⸻
You lie there a while longer.
No rush. No fear. Just truth.
And when he kisses you this time—
it's not a secret.
It's a promise.
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