The first thing Ella felt when she stirred was warmth.
A gentle, steady heat pressed against her back. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close. For a mont, she didn’t move—didn’t breathe. Her mind scrambled for the details of where she was, her body tensing on instinct. But then she felt it: the soft inhale and exhale of soone behind her, the low rhythm of a heartbeat against her spine.
Nicholas.
She exhaled slowly, her muscles relaxing one by one.
He was still here.
Her mories ca back in fragnts—her nightmare, waking up in a panic, the way he’d held her until the trembling stopped. He hadn’t let go. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t treated her like she was broken.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the blanket as she shifted slightly, just enough to turn in his arms.
Nicholas stirred, eyes fluttering open. Their gazes t in the quiet morning light.
His voice ca out low and sleep-rough. "Morning."
She blinked at him, disoriented by how close he was. By how natural it felt to be held like this.
"I didn’t an to fall asleep on you," she murmured.
"I was already asleep before you," he replied with a faint smirk. "So technically, you fell asleep on ."
She looked at him for a long mont, then sighed and rested her head lightly on his chest.
"I didn’t scream, did I?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"No," he said. "Just a few whispers. You were scared."
Ella nodded slowly. The sha threatened to crawl in, the need to apologize for being a burden, for disrupting his night—but his hand slid up to gently cradle the back of her head, and she stopped.
He didn’t think she was weak.
He hadn’t recoiled when she cried. He hadn’t flinched when she leaned on him.
Instead, he’d held her like she mattered.
And sohow... that mattered more than she could say.
"I used to dream about running," she said softly, eyes tracing a thread on his shirt. "From that house. From him. But in the dream, my feet never moved fast enough."
Nicholas said nothing, just stroked her hair, his touch a silent anchor.
"This is the first ti I’ve woken up feeling like I actually got away."
Her voice broke on the last word.
His arms tightened around her.
"You did," he said. "And I swear to you, he won’t touch you again."
She looked up at him, eyes searching. He looked tired, but resolute. There was no pity in his expression. Just unwavering promise.
"I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now," she admitted. "Everything I had... it’s gone."
"You’re not alone anymore," Nicholas said. "You have . Whether you like it or not."
A flicker of a smile passed across her face. "You’re very confident for soone who technically kidnapped from my own apartnt."
"I call it rescuing my wife," he said smoothly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "It’s romantic if you squint."
She let out a soft laugh, surprised by how light it sounded.
He smiled back, but there was a flicker of sothing deeper in his eyes. He hesitated, then added, more quietly, "Ella, I know you don’t trust easily. You have every reason not to. But I’m not going anywhere. Not when you need soone."
Her smile faltered. That aching vulnerability returned, curling in her chest.
She hadn’t realized how much she needed soone to say those words. Not with conditions. Not with judgnt. Just... truth.
"Thank you," she said, voice raw.
Nicholas didn’t respond with words. He only pulled her a little closer, his chin resting lightly on her head.
They stayed like that for several minutes. Quiet. Still.
Then his stomach growled—loud and very unromantic.
Ella burst out laughing before she could stop herself, covering her mouth with one hand.
Nicholas groaned. "Great. That’s the mont you laugh? Not the charming husband jokes?"
"It was the timing," she said between giggles. "Perfectly tragic."
He rolled onto his back dramatically. "I just held you all night, gave the speech of a lifeti, and now I’m mocked for being hungry."
"Your priorities are very noble," she teased, propping herself on one elbow.
He glanced at her, one brow raised. "You’re laughing. That’s a win for ."
Her smile softened. "Yeah... I guess it is."
His gaze lingered on her—quiet, steady. "Let’s eat. You need food. I’ll make sothing."
"You can cook?" she asked, skeptically.
He sat up with mock offense. "Excuse ? I’m a man of many talents. Cooking just happens to be one of them."
"Fine," she said, sliding out of bed. "But if I find out it’s just ordering room service and plating it nicely, I’m calling you out."
"You wound ."
He stood and offered her a hand. She hesitated for a second, then took it.
Their fingers laced together without effort, and the warmth of his grip stayed with her long after they left the room.
For the first ti in a long ti, she wasn’t afraid of the day ahead.
Not with Nicholas beside her.
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