The gray morning light slipped through the blinds, casting thin stripes across the tangled sheets. Sofia blinked against it, her cheek pressed to the warm curve of Liam's chest, his heartbeat slow and steady beneath her ear. His arm was heavy across her waist, his breathing deep and even, and for a long moment she just lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of him sleeping.
Her body ached in places she didn't know could ache—a soreness that made her shift slightly, feeling the ghost of him still between her thighs. She bit her lip, heat creeping up her neck, and pressed her face into his skin to hide a smile she couldn't help.
His hand moved on its own, fingers tracing lazy circles on her hip. Still asleep. Still holding her.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once.
Sofia ignored it.
Twice.
She reached for it, careful not to wake him, squinting at the brightness of the screen. Three messages from Maya. Her thumb hovered.
Hey. I know it's late there.
Just wanted to say I'm glad you're happy. Jenna told me about the guy.
He better be good to you.
Sofia stared at the words, her chest tightening in a way she couldn't name. Not pain, exactly. Something older. Something that had already healed but left a scar she could still feel if she pressed too hard.
Liam stirred beside her, his arm tightening, pulling her closer. His voice came rough with sleep, barely a murmur against her hair. "Who's that?"
She turned the screen toward him without thinking. Let him see.
He blinked, his pale blue eyes adjusting to the light, focusing on the name at the top of the screen. His arm didn't loosen. "Maya."
"Yeah."
He was quiet for a second. Then his thumb found her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. "You okay?"
The question caught her off guard. She'd expected—what, jealousy? Tension? A conversation she wasn't ready to have? Instead, he was just looking at her, his eyes soft and patient, waiting for her answer like it was the only thing that mattered.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "It's weird. She's... she's being nice. I didn't expect that."
His thumb traced her jaw, slow and gentle. "You two don't talk much?"
"We broke up. She ended it. I thought she'd... I don't know. Hate me, maybe. Or not care." Sofia looked back at the screen, at Maya's message still glowing. "But she's checking in. Making sure I'm okay."
"She cares about you."
"She did."
"Still does." His voice was quiet, certain. "Does that bother you?"
Sofia thought about it. The truth settled in her chest, lighter than she expected. "No. I think... I think I'm glad. That she's not angry. That she wants me to be happy."
Liam's hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her hair. "Good. Because you are."
She looked up at him, the morning light catching the edge of his face, the scar above his eyebrow faint in the soft gold. "Happy?"
"Yeah." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, slow and deliberate. "Happy."
Her phone screen went dark in her hand, and she set it face-down on the nightstand. She didn't reply to Maya. Not yet. She would. Later. When she had the right words.
Right now, she curled back into his chest, her palm flat against his ribs, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing. His arm settled around her again, heavy and warm, and she closed her eyes.
"Liam?"
"Mm."
"I'm glad it's you."
His hand stilled on her hip. Then he shifted, rolling onto his side to face her, his body curving around hers like he was trying to shield her from the whole world. His nose brushed hers, his breath warm against her lips. "Me too," he said. "I'm glad it's me."
She laughed, soft and breathless, and he kissed her—not urgent, not hungry. Just present. Just here.
His hand found hers under the sheet, fingers lacing together, and she felt the calluses on his palm, the warmth of his grip, the way he held on like he was afraid she might disappear.
"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered against his mouth.
"I know." He kissed her again, slower this time. "But I'm still going to hold on."
She smiled, and he pulled her closer, and the morning light spread across the bed like honey, slow and golden, warming everything it touched.