We ended up resting in the same hotel room that night.
It wasn't exactly planned. It just happened, the way some quiet moments sneak into chaos. I asked if he had eaten dinner, and he gave me a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper, saying he had. But I could tell from his weary eyes that food was the least of his concerns.
Lying beside him, I felt a strange calmness settle over me, like a gentle tide after a storm. It wasn't comfort born out of familiarity, it was something deeper, almost instinctive. Being near him made me feel... safe. As if wherever he was, I could call that place home.
He looked utterly exhausted. The shadows under his eyes seemed to deepen under the faint hotel light, and his disheveled hair told the story of countless sleepless nights. I couldn't help but wonder, was he pushing himself too hard? What was he chasing, or perhaps, running from?
