Morning sunlight streamed through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting scattered flecks of gold onto the crisp white sheets. Livia stirred, her lashes fluttering as she slowly opened her eyes. The warm light made her squint slightly, pulling her halfway out of sleep—but it wasn't the sun that fully woke her.
She felt it—a quiet, steady gaze resting on her.
Turning her head, she met Marcellus's eyes. He was already awake, watching her with a look that caught her off guard—soft, unwavering, and tinged with an intimacy she wasn't yet used to.
For a second, she panicked.
She tried to sit up quickly, but her arm brushed against something warm and firm beneath the blanket—something that made her freeze mid-motion. A beat passed. Her cheeks flushed bright red. Before she could say a word, Marcellus gave her a familiar, slightly mischievous smile—the kind that made her heart skip and her patience thin.
"You're still misbehaving, even while recovering," she muttered, giving him a glare that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her fist landed lightly against his shoulder, more flustered than angry.
He only shrugged, a picture of mock innocence. "Can't help it. Natural reaction."
Their eyes met again, and this time, neither could hold back the laugh that bubbled up. It was quiet, shared, and full of a kind of easiness that hadn't come easily to either of them. For that moment, it felt like all the worries and schemes outside the room had faded, leaving just the two of them in a bubble of morning light and quiet joy.
Marcellus shifted, trying to pull her closer with one arm—clearly intending to take things a step further—but a sharp twinge of pain made his brow crease. Livia instantly reached out to steady him, her hand against his chest as she scolded, "Don't move around like that!"
He gave her a sheepish look, half embarrassed and half annoyed at his own body. She couldn't help it—she laughed again. Something about the way he looked then—proud but helpless, stubborn yet vulnerable—sent a strange flutter through her chest. A warmth that had nothing to do with sunlight.
She leaned in slightly, her voice soft and teasing. "Just this once, okay? Consider it a reward—for how well you behaved last night."
Before he could react, she dipped down and placed a kiss on his lips. Gentle. Careful. Like a secret she was trying to leave there without waking the world. Her hand grazed along his jaw, trailing down in time with his breath—steady, but growing warmer. Her fingers moved lower, slow and deliberate, until they slid beneath the sheets and came to rest below his abdomen.
Marcellus jolted slightly, a sharp inhale escaping his throat. His breath hitched, but he said nothing. One hand rose to her shoulder—not forceful, just resting there, like he wasn't sure whether to stop her or hold on. Livia didn't look up. Her lips remained near his, and everything she did was wrapped in a softness that spoke louder than any words.
She didn't need to say anything. Her touch carried all the emotion she couldn't yet voice—trust, tenderness, and a quiet, aching fondness.
In that moment, all barriers between them faded. The silence was no longer awkward, but full—dense with shared understanding, unspoken promises, and something far deeper than desire.
Sunlight continued to spill across the bed, filtered through the curtain like the presence of something holy, something that vowed to keep their secret safe.
Ten minutes later, a low, satisfied exhale filled the room. Livia slowly lifted herself from his arms, her cheeks still burning with residual color. Marcellus remained half-reclined against the pillow, breath slightly uneven, but his expression one of absolute contentment. A hint of mischief danced behind his gentle smile.
"You're still grinning?" she huffed, giving him a small, embarrassed punch to the shoulder.
He winced dramatically. "Ow. You do realize I'm still a patient, right?"
That earned a small laugh from her, despite herself. She rolled her eyes, pulling the blanket up over him with a sigh that couldn't hide the thread of affection in her tone. "Just this once, alright? Now rest properly… Once you're better, then maybe…"
She trailed off, suddenly realizing the implication in her own words. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red, and she quickly shut her mouth.
Marcellus didn't tease her. Not this time. He looked at her quietly, smile softening into something warmer, steadier. "Alright," he said simply. "Thank you. I'll heal up properly—and I'll be looking forward to it."
She didn't reply. Just nodded, eyes lowered, and slipped out of bed. In the bathroom, she cleaned herself up quickly and took a moment to tidy the slight traces left behind on the sheets. When she returned, she wiped his forehead and arms with a damp cloth, each movement careful and practiced—like she had always known how to care for him.
Outside the window, the morning had fully arrived. The light had grown brighter, filling every corner of the room with golden warmth. The hospital was still, quiet, as if the world itself had decided to pause for them.
No promises were made. No grand declarations spoken. But in their eyes, in their touch, in the gentle rhythm of their breaths, something had settled.
Something real.
Perhaps the path ahead was still filled with thorns. Perhaps the future remained uncertain. But here and now, they had each other.
And for this moment, that was enough.