Their tangled breaths gradually slowed, cooling into quiet.
Celeste lay sprawled across the rumpled sheets, her skin still warm with afterglow.
Her damp hair clung loosely to her cheek, and a thin trail of sweat traced down her neck, disappearing into the pillow.
One leg rested across Jinwoo's.
The heat between them wasn't going anywhere.
Jinwoo brushed a tender kiss against her cheek before turning to check his phone.
It buzzed and lit up on the nightstand.
"Hey, Director. Yeah—it's me."
He exhaled, still catching his breath.
"So sorry, Jinwoo. Remember the restaurant scene we shot yesterday morning? The audio's completely unusable. We've got to reshoot before the venue closes—think you can come in early today?"
Jinwoo's eyes flicked to the wall clock. Not even 10 a.m.
His gaze drifted back to Celeste.
She lay motionless beside him, her hand still loosely gripping the sheet.
Even asleep, her breathing was uneven, her chest and stomach flushed from his touch.
Red marks bloomed faintly on her shoulder and collarbone where his mouth had lingered too long.
He leaned in and pressed one more kiss to her forehead, then her lips.
"I'll be back soon."
She gave a faint nod, eyes still closed, already slipping back into sleep.
He showered quickly, pulled on a T-shirt and jeans, ran a hand through his damp hair, and left quietly.
But the room didn't cool with his absence.
The scent of skin, heat, and sex lingered thick in the air, woven into the sheets.
And in that haze of warmth and silence, Celeste curled in deeper, her breath slow and deep.
—
11:30 a.m.
Beep—
The front door unlocked with a soft chime.
"Hey. Why aren't you answering? Didn't you say night shoot today?"
Daniel stepped in, his tie loosened, voice casual.
The apartment was quiet, lights off.
A pair of heels—hers—rested near the door.
He paused.
Something about the scent in the air made his chest tighten—her perfume, layered faintly with another fragrance.
Something… masculine.
He walked slowly down the hall.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Warmth drifted out from the crack.
He pushed it open.
Dark curtains kept the room dim, but his eyes adjusted quickly.
There, lying asleep on the white sheets—
Celeste.
Naked.
Her hair was spilled across the pillow, her bare back exposed, scattered with fading marks.
The sheet barely covered her chest, and yet… it didn't hide the truth.
Daniel froze.
His breath caught in his throat, fingers curling into fists.
Every part of him screamed to turn around.
But he didn't.
Instead, he walked quietly to the bed and sat at the edge.
Her breathing was soft and steady, completely unaware.
His mind spun.
If I hadn't accepted the adoption…Would I be able to look at her like this without guilt?
Something burned low in his chest—jealousy, longing, grief.
He had no name for it.
Then—slowly, like gravity—he lay beside her, resting on top of the blanket.
Not touching. Just close enough to feel her warmth.
She shifted.
With a sleepy sigh, she rolled toward him, curling into his chest.
Her arm draped across his waist, her cheek nestling against his shirt.
Daniel stopped breathing.
His heart pounded so loudly, he was sure it would wake her.
And yet—she didn't stir.
Instead, in a voice half-caught in dreams, she murmured:
"…Mmh… smell like Daniel…"
His breath hitched.
He stared at her, blinking fast.
But her eyes stayed closed. She was still asleep.
He pressed his forehead into the pillow beside her and closed his eyes, swallowing hard.
Then, in the smallest whisper, a vow only the room would hear—
"I'm done running from this."