Chapter 192: Coming Home

*Runze’s POV*

The shower water is warm, fogging up the mirror in the bathroom.

I stand under the spray, letting it run over my shoulders, trying very hard not to wonder how late it’s getting.

I already called Bael once.

That was around five.

I used breakfast as an excuse to call him, then lunch.

*"Did you eat?"* I asked.

*"Yes."*

*"Really?"*

*"Mm."*

His voice was calm, but I could hear papers turning, keys clicking, and a muffled voice speaking to him in the room.

Busy. Very busy.

So when seven o’clock came and went, I didn’t call again. If he was still working through a crisis at the office, the last thing I wanted was to become another distraction for him.

Instead, I tried to force myself to do other things around the house just to keep my mind occupied.

I helped Mrs. Wen arrange flowers in the living room. We set pale white blooms in tall vases near the steps, taking our time with every stem. I read two Chapters of a book without remembering a single word. I walked around the garden twice, watching the sky slowly turn gray and dark.

Eventually, I gave up pretending I wasn’t waiting and came upstairs to wash up.

The cool cream Bael sent this afternoon helped a lot. The soreness across my chest isn’t nearly as bad as it was this morning.

Still...

As I rub soap across my skin, the warm water hitting my chest makes my nipples throb faintly again. A soft sigh slips past my lips.

I hurry through the rest of my shower, rinsing away the foam and stepping out onto the soft mat.

I dry my hair quickly, wrap my shower robe around my shoulders, and tie the fabric securely at my waist. Just as I step out of the bathroom into the bedroom, the door of our room clicks open.

I stop.

Bael stands in the doorway.

For a second, neither of us moves.

His eyes sweep over me, taking in my wet hair, the open collar of my robe, and the bare skin of my throat, and he freezes subtly, clearly not expecting me to be fresh out of the shower.

His suit jacket hangs over one arm. His tie is loose, the knot sitting lower than usual, and there is a deep tiredness in his grey eyes that I rarely see.

He looks so worn out. Seeing him like this makes a quiet ache pull at my heart.

Without thinking, I walk across the room straight toward him. Bael barely puts his briefcase down on the floor before I wrap my arms around his waist, pulling myself close.

He stiffens for just a fraction of a second.

"I’m dirty," he murmurs, his voice low, rough, and tired.

"I know."

I hug him tighter anyway, pressing my cheek against his shoulder, letting his familiar scent erase the restlessness that had built up all afternoon.

A quiet breath leaves his chest. Then his arms come around my waist, drawing me in close until his forehead rests lightly against my shoulder. He leans his weight into me, burying his face in the curve of my neck, taking a slow, deep breath of my scent.

"When I came in and didn’t see you downstairs..." His voice is quieter than usual. "...I thought you went to sleep."

"I was waiting."

The words slip out before I can stop them. He doesn’t tease me. He just closes his eyes, resting against me.

"...I’m glad."

For a long time, neither of us says a word.

His slow breathing fills the space between us. Only now do I notice how tight the muscles in his shoulders feel under his shirt.

I pull back slightly, keeping my hands on his chest.

"Come here," I say gently.

I reach up and begin pulling his dark suit jacket off his arms, setting it aside. Then my fingers move to the loose tie around his neck, working the knot free and sliding it away from his collar.

Bael watches me quietly, letting me do it.

"Were you able to fix the problem?" I ask, unbuttoning the top of his shirt.

"Mm."

"Was it bad?"

"No."

His answer comes fast. Too fast.

I look straight into his eyes. "...Which means it was bad."

The corner of his mouth twitches just a little. "It’s handled."

That is all he’s going to tell me.

I let it go.

One button, then another, then another. The shirt parts beneath my fingers until his skin is open to the cool air.

My hands move down on their own. Just as my fingers reach the top of his trousers, Bael’s hand gently catches my wrist.

I blink, looking up.

Bael lifts my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to my skin.

"I can do the rest," he says smoothly.

Only then do I realize what I was about to do. My mind was so focused on helping him strip away the long day that I didn’t even think.

"...Oh."

A tiny smile touches his lips, making my ears turn red.

"I’ll shower."

"You’ll eat first," I tell him quickly, standing my ground.

"I’ll shower first."

"You haven’t had dinner."

"I know."

I fold my arms over my chest, giving him a look. "So stubborn."

Bael raises an eyebrow, a faint, teasing glint in his eyes. "I must have learned it from you."

I glare at him, raising a warning hand as if to shove his shoulder, but Bael dodges it smoothly with a quiet chuckle, stepping out of range toward the bathroom door.

"I won’t take long," he says, giving me a quick glance over his shoulder.

I let out a soft sigh, dropping my hand. "...Fine."

He steps back in just enough to lean down and press a quick kiss against my forehead before disappearing inside.

As the bathroom door clicks shut, I stand in the middle of the bedroom, quietly laughing to myself.

***

Dinner passes quietly.

The dining room is calm and warm. Bael eats everything Mrs. Wen made— a bowl of warm soup, fresh fish, and steamed vegetables, without looking at his phone even once.

I sit across from him, sipping my warm tea, content just to watch him eat.

Once the dishes are cleared away, we go back upstairs to our room.

Instead of going to the bed, I point to the chair by the window.

"Sit."

Bael looks at me, stepping into the room. "...What?"

"Sit down."

One eyebrow goes up. "...You’re giving me orders now?"

"Just sit."

A small flicker of fun crosses his eyes, but he walks over and sits down.

As soon as he settles into the chair, I step behind him. My hands hover above his shoulders. I’ve never done this for anyone before.

"...If I hurt you, tell me," I say softly.

"I thought this was supposed to help."

"I’ve never given a massage before."

"You’ve never had a reason to."

"...Exactly."

Carefully, I place both hands on his shoulders. The muscle under my palms feels like stone. It’s far harder than I expected.

I press down gently. Nothing happens.

I press a little harder, moving my thumbs in slow circles along his neck and down toward his back.

"Your shoulders feel like rock."

"I’m fine," Bael says softly, his eyes closed. "Just tired."

"You shouldn’t work yourself so hard."

Bael lets his head tilt back slightly, a low sigh slipping past his lips as I keep pressing my thumbs into his shoulders. My wrists start to ache a little, but I don’t stop.

A few quiet minutes pass.

Then, without warning, his hands reach back and catch both of mine.

I stop. "Hm?"

He turns his head just enough to look up at me. A lazy smile sits on his lips.

"...Are you giving me a massage..." He gently rubs his thumb over my knuckles. "...or trying to tease me?"

My face instantly turns hot. "It’s a massage!"

"You answered way too fast," Bael murmurs with a quiet laugh.

"Because it’s true!"

"Mm."

He doesn’t sound like he believes me at all.

Instead, he pulls my hand gently, making me lose my balance. I stumble forward with a small gasp, my hands landing against his chest.

The next thing I know, I am sitting sideways across his lap.

Bael wraps one arm around my waist, holding me safe against him. His other hand reaches up, brushing a strand of hair away from my eyes, his fingers lingering on my cheek.

He looks at my face for a long second, his thumb tracing my lower lip.

"...Thank you," he says quietly.

I stare at him.

A small smile touches my lips before I can stop it. I lean my face into his hand.

"...You’re welcome."

He leans in and kisses me once.

Short. Warm.

Nothing more.

Then he stands up while holding me, sets me gently on my feet, takes my hand in his, and leads me toward the bed.

We pull back the covers together and slip underneath.

This night, neither of us asks for anything more. We are both too tired, too settled in the quiet comfort of being together.

Bael lies down behind me, his arm finding its place over my waist before the blankets even settle. He pulls me back until my spine rests against his front.

I lean back into his chest, letting my head rest against his arm.

The room goes still.

Somewhere between waiting for him all day and watching him finally relax against me, I realized something.

Taking care of him... made me just as happy as being taken care of.

This morning, I woke up in his arms.

Tonight... I fall asleep there, too.