For the first time in months, Yaoyue didn't wake up feeling like she had to defend herself.
No press to answer to.
No cameras lurking outside the building.
No whispered conspiracies in boardrooms.
Just the sun filtering through the curtains and Zeyan's quiet breathing beside her.
She rolled onto her side, watching him for a moment. His face in sleep was peaceful, still, a softness he never showed the world.
She brushed a finger lightly across his temple, tracing the place where worry usually lived. But today, there was none.
"Are you staring again?" he murmured, eyes still closed.
"You're awake."
"I've been awake since you shifted your leg into enemy territory."
She smiled. "It's called cuddling."
"It's called invasion."
"You don't seem to mind."
His eyes opened, and that now-familiar warmth lit them up from within. "That's not the point."
She leaned in and kissed him lightly. "Then what is?"
"That you're still here."
"I told you I'm not going anywhere."
"I know," he said, and this time, he didn't smile, he just held her gaze, serious and quiet. "And I'm starting to believe you."
---
The day passed slowly, deliberately.
They skipped the office. For once, Zeyan let his phone ring without checking it. The world could spin on without him for twenty-four hours.
Yaoyue cooked breakfast. Burnt the eggs. He made toast and silently took over the pan without a word, while she pouted dramatically and muttered something about betrayal.
They ate at the counter in sweatshirts and socks.
It wasn't glamorous.
It was perfect.
---
Later, they sat together on the balcony again, drinks in hand, the afternoon breeze cool and gentle.
"I've been thinking," Zeyan said quietly, "about what's next."
Yaoyue tilted her head. "Next?"
"For us."
"Oh." Her tone was careful, but she didn't pull away. "And?"
He reached into his pocket and took out a small, folded slip of paper.
She took it with a raised eyebrow. "If this is another contract…"
"It's a lease agreement," he said.
She blinked. "Wait. What?"
"Your name," he said, "is now on this place. Equal ownership."
She opened the paper. He wasn't joking.
"Why would you…"
"I want you to know you're not a guest here," he said simply. "This is your home, too."
She stared at him, speechless for the first time all week.
"I don't need you to move in," he added. "You already did. I just want you to *know* it's yours."
She looked down at the paper again. Her fingers trembled slightly, but not from fear.
"I've never owned anything like this before," she whispered. "Not space. Not safety. Not something I could call mine."
Zeyan leaned forward, took her hand. "Then it's about time."
She swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden rush of emotion.
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "I've never been more."
"Okay," she said softly.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
---
That evening, after dinner, she stood by the bookshelves in the living room, running her fingers across the spines.
Zeyan walked in behind her, quietly watching.
"You're thinking about rearranging them again," he said.
"They're in complete chaos," she said.
"You put the cookbooks next to the legal codes."
"They were both unreadable."
He let out a low laugh and crossed the room to her. "I could get used to this."
"You already have."
He pulled her gently into his arms.
"You're not going to let me stay emotionally detached, are you?"
"Nope."
"Cold and calculating?"
"Not with me."
"Strategic silence?"
She leaned up and kissed him. "Only during arguments."
---
That night, as they lay in bed. Yaoyue reached out quietly and laced her fingers through his.
He didn't react at first.
Then he turned his head, looked at her in the dark.
"What?"
"I've been thinking too," she whispered.
"Dangerous."
She smiled. "We're not the same people we were when this started."
"No. We're not."
"I think I'm ready to stop waiting for the next disaster."
"Good," he said. "Because I'm already building what comes after."
She exhaled slowly. "And what is that?"
He pulled her close, his voice low and certain.
"Something that lasts."