Runze's POV
Morning light pours through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the villa bedroom, painting the white linen sheets in warm gold.
Bael is still asleep beside me, one arm draped lazily over my waist, his dark hair messy against the pillow, looking completely undone and relaxed in a way the city never gets to see.
I slip out from beneath his arm as quietly as I can, taking a quick shower before heading into the dressing room.
When I brought our bags, I made sure not to pack a single formal suit for Bael. He spends almost his entire life wrapped in dark double-breasted jackets and precise ties; today is about letting him just be a man enjoying a weekend with his family.
I lay out the outfits on the lounge chair. For Bael, a soft, stone-gray textured knit sweater paired with tailored charcoal trousers—casual, but sharp enough to suit his height and broad frame effortlessly. For myself, a clean, cream-colored cashmere top paired with well-fitted indigo denim jeans.
