“It’s not that… it’s just… happiness hit me out of nowhere,” Agnes said, pulling back from his embrace to smile up at him. “Want me to grab your clothes for you?”
“Nah, I’ve got it,” Tom replied, letting her go and standing up. “You can head to bed early or crack open a book. And hey, happiness didn’t just drop out of the sky. You’ve always been amazing-kind, smart, everything. Love’s a two-way street, and I’m right there with you.”
He flashed her a warm, steady smile before heading off.
Agnes watched him go, her gaze lingering on his back long after he’d left the room.
Ten minutes later, Tom emerged from the shower, his hair damp and his white loungewear crisp. Agnes was propped against the headboard, a philosophy book in her hands. She’d always preferred physical books, convinced that staying sharp meant constantly learning, always drawing something new from the pages.
Their eyes met as he approached the bed, and Agnes felt her pulse quicken. Tonight, she’d be sleeping beside the person she loved.
She sat quietly, her cheeks tinged with pink, her book forgotten in her lap.
Tom’s expression was softer than usual, his feelings clear now. This girl-she was someone he cared for deeply, someone he’d protect no matter what.
He sat on the edge of the bed, lifting the blanket and sliding in beside her. “Want to keep reading? Or call it a night?”
“Sleep,” she said quickly. Truth was, she hadn’t been able to focus on the book for a while now.
“Should I turn off the light?” he asked.
“Sure.”
He reached over and clicked off the bedside lamp. Moonlight spilled through the window, mingling with the warm glow of the crescent lamp on the carpet. The room wasn’t dark, just softly lit, enough to see each other’s faces when they turned their heads.
At first, they lay apart, a careful distance between them. But then Tom shifted, turning fully toward her. Agnes mirrored him, their eyes meeting in the dim light.
The night was still, almost magical.
“Good night, Miss Bubu,” Tom murmured.
“Good night, my Mr. Kitten,” Agnes whispered back.
Tom reached out his hand. “Give me your hand.” Agnes hesitated for a moment before sliding her fingers into his, their hands intertwining under the blanket.
They closed their eyes, but neither was truly asleep. Their heartbeats betrayed them, quick and unsteady. The warmth of their palms spoke louder than words.
After a while, Agnes opened her eyes, her gaze settling on Tom’s peaceful face. “Kitten,” she whispered, “are you asleep?”
His eyes fluttered open, his voice low and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”
She bit her lip, her voice barely audible. “A little.”
“How about I hold you?” he offered, his tone careful, respectful.
Agnes’s heart melted. She’d wanted to be closer but hadn’t dared. Now, like a cautious kitten, she inched toward him until she was nestled softly against his chest.