Morning came quietly but brightly. Through the thin, gray curtains, sunlight filtered in – golden, warm, as if trying to awaken a dead room. It fell on the dusty floor, on the tossed clothes, on Tomas' face on the couch – he slept deeply, the blanket slipped to the floor, his hand hanging down.
In the bedroom Laura opened her eyes. First instinct – panic.
Where am I? What is this?
She suddenly jumped from the bed – but the leg! Pain shot through her ankle like lightning.
– Ow! – she cried softly, falling back onto the pillow.
Then everything flooded back: The obsidian. The smile. Four men. The scream. The cold face. The punches. The groans. The hands on her back. The warmth.
He… Tomas… helped.
She looked at herself:
Eyebrow – bandaged.
Lip – cut, treated.
Hands – cleaned.
Leg – firmly wrapped, professionally.
God… thank God he's not a bad person.
Smiling for the first time since yesterday, Laura felt warmth in her chest. Her eyes grew wet.
She looked around. The room – messy: shirt on a chair, socks on the floor, the book Abdominal Surgery. But still cozy.
She smelled coffee. Strong, fresh. And bacon – rich, crispy. She heard dishes clinking.
He's cooking? For me?
Slowly, limping, she reached the door and opened it a crack.
Tomas. His back to her. The sun lit his broad shoulders and lean waist under the gray T-shirt. His hands moved precisely: stirring eggs, flipping bacon, pouring coffee.
– Good morning, – she said softly.
Tomas turned around. His face – cold, eyes empty.
– Bathroom's on the left. Go wash up. Come eat. I left you a shirt in there. Yours are torn.
She blushed.
– Mhm… thank you.
The bathroom mirror showed her fully: messy hair, cut eyebrow, swollen lip.
I look like after a fight. Again. Typical.
She washed up. Put on Tomas' shirt – big, gray, smelling like him.
In the kitchen Tomas placed steaming breakfast on the table.
– The shirt suits you. Don't wait until it gets cold.
Laura's eyes sparkled.
– I don't remember the last time I had breakfast like this…
– By the way… what's your name? – she asked.
– Tomas.
– I'm Laura. Thank you for yesterday. You… saved me.
– Mhm. You're welcome.
They ate in silence. Coffee steamed between them.
– How's the leg? – Tomas asked.
– Better. What you did really helped. You… definitely know what you're doing.
– Good. When you finish, I'll call a taxi. Your phone's broken. If you want to make a call – use mine.
She smiled warmly.
– Thank you. No need. I'll manage.
Tomas collected the dishes. His movements precise.
Why is he so cold? Sad? That laugh yesterday… was that him? Why?
– Ready to go? – he asked.
– Ah? Yes! – she jumped.
The phone rang.
– Yes? … Okay, I'll be there in an hour, – Tomas hung up. – I have work. I'll walk you.
– All right, – Laura smiled.
While he changed clothes, she looked around the apartment. Books. Sofa. Dusty TV. A photograph – a family. A child with the shadow of green eyes. Tomas?
Suddenly his voice behind her:
– All right. Time to go.
She startled and tripped over a box. Started falling. Tomas caught her. Hands on her waist. Her hands on his chest. Faces close.
Those eyes… so cold. But beautiful…
He felt a heartbeat – strangely strong.
They both stepped back quickly.
– Time to get to work, – Tomas said.
– Okay… let's go, – Laura stammered.