Kairo lay on his back, breath still uneven, green eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it held answers to questions he could not yet form. His shirt hung half open, his pants carelessly undone. Composed in appearance, perhaps, but entirely unraveled beneath it.
Beside him, Sara rested on her stomach, chin propped on her hand, watching him with quiet triumph. Her finger traced the curve of his lips, tugging at them gently as though she were strumming invisible guitar strings. A small, satisfied smile played on her face. She liked seeing him this way, soft, open, and undone by her in the gentlest way possible.
"You know how you're looking right now?" she asked, still toying with his lips.
He turned his head toward her slowly. "How?" he murmured.
She tilted her head, studying him. "Like a baby. An adorable one. Innocent type."
A low chuckle slipped from him. "That's because you loved me like one."
Her smile softened at that.
He kept looking at her then. His pupils moved over her features with intent, as though he were trying to memorize the architecture of her face. Decode her. Understand the spell she carried so effortlessly.
She noticed. A husky little laugh escaped her.
"What are you thinking, baby boy?" she asked, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone, slow and fond.
His gaze stayed on hers. Honest. Unmasked. "I'm just wondering," he said quietly, "how you manage to bring out versions of me I didn't even know existed."
Her thumb drifted down, tracing the edge of his lower lip. "What do you mean?" she asked softly.
He smiled faintly, then turned his face back toward the ceiling, staring up at the white expanse.
"I've had the dirtiest of intimacies," he said quietly. "Every angle. Every position. Every fantasy. Aggressive. Reckless. Thrilling. Wild enough to feel monstrous at times. Even things I never thought I'd try." He let out a slow breath. "Everything. And you know how I was back then."
Sara listened without interrupting or judgment. Just a steady presence.
He turned his head toward her again, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. "But what we had just now…" His voice softened. "That was something I never imagined I would allow myself to feel."
She didn't move.
"I never thought it could feel this full, after being loved gently," he continued. "Not just satisfied. Not just good. But… complete. Like heaven wrapped in love and fire at the same time. Sacred in a way I don't have the right vocabulary for. It felt like my soul was involved. Like something inside me that I didn't even know was wounded just… stitched itself closed."
His fingers flexed against the sheets.
"I've always been aggressive and dirty in bed. Detached when it came to intimacy. It was about thrill, control, and heat." He shook his head slowly, almost embarrassed. "But today… what you showed me…"
The words failed him.
He laughed under his breath, running a hand over his face. "I can't believe this version of me. I can't believe I can be this… fragile. That this man existed inside me all along."
She chuckled softly. "What happened to you suddenly?"
He smiled, but this time it was different. Quieter. His eyes grew distant, touched by an old warmth.
"I don't know, I'm feeling fragile, little boy. I just remembered, Mom," he said gently.
Sara's expression shifted.
"I remember that incident. The one Dad mentioned before." His voice thinned slightly. "I remember a glimpse of it."
She watched as his features softened, the sharp edges of him dissolving into something almost childlike.
"Maybe because that was the last time I went out with Mom and Dad," he said quietly, his eyes no longer seeing the ceiling but something far older. "She used to love me back then. I remember glimpses… her holding me, feeding me, kissing my cheeks before sending me to school."
His lips curved faintly, but the smile carried weight.
"But it didn't last long." His voice shifted, rougher now. "She left. Just… left. And never came back."
The air between them changed.
"Sometimes I wonder if she really loved me," he admitted, staring upward as though asking the universe. "Because if she did… how do you even leave your child overnight? How do you not look back for years?"
His voice trembled on the last word.
"Kairo…" Sara's fingers slid gently into his hair, brushing it back from his forehead with the kind of tenderness that doesn't demand anything in return.
He let out a small laugh that sounded nothing like amusement. It sounded like something cracking.
"Whenever I think about her," he continued, swallowing past the lump in his throat, "it feels unreal. Like… was she really my mother? Did she really give birth to me?"
Sara's vision blurred as her eyes filled. He let out a breath softly, fighting the tears, refusing to let them fall. A fragile smile appeared anyway, brave and breaking all at once.
"And when I think about Kael…" he hesitated, shame flickering across his features. "I somehow feel jealous."
She didn't react. She just listened.
"He's lucky," Kairo said quietly. "He's got to have Mom. Fully."
"You miss her?" Sara asked carefully.
"No." His answer came too fast. Too firm. His voice was thick with everything he claimed not to feel. "I don't miss her anymore. I forgot what it feels like to have a mother."
Sara studied him gently. "You just said you're jealous of Kael."
"I am," he said, meeting her eyes this time. Honest. Raw. "Because he has a mother. And I don't." He paused. "But I don't miss Liana anymore. The woman who was once my mother."
It was a puzzle of pain and defense. Longing and rejection stitched together awkwardly.
Sara wanted to ask more. To untangle it. But she felt the timing wasn't right. Some wounds need warmth, not questions.
So instead, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
He looked at her then. And the smile he gave her was small. Endearing. Vulnerable in a way he would never show it to the world.
He pulled her closer, guiding her leg over his hips, his hands settling at her waist like he needed to anchor himself. She smiled, her palms cradling his face.
Their eyes locked.
"Promise me you'll love me like this forever," he asked. Just quietly afraid.
She smiled, brushing her thumb along his cheek. "I will. Forever."
He smiled softly, then turned his face and kissed the palm hovering near his lips.
She smiled back.
Then slowly, his fingers found the clasp of her bra. With an easy motion, he unbuckled it and let the strap fall away, tossing it aside like it had interrupted something important.
She raised a brow, amused. "What is this behaviour now, huh?"
He pulled her closer without hesitation, his palm settling warmly on one of her melons, holding her with quiet claim. "You don't get to hide them when we're this close and intimate," he said, his tone far too serious for the playful glint in his eyes.
She laughed and lightly smacked his arm.
He smirked, giving her a brief squeeze before shifting over her, resting comfortably against her chest as though he had finally found the perfect place to be. "Hmm," he murmured in satisfaction. "Now it's perfect now."
She hit him again, a little embarrassed, yet entertained.
"Stop hitting me," he muttered, fighting a grin. "I genuinely like these two. They're my soft, comforting pillows."
Sara sighed as if deeply burdened by his shamelessness, but the giggle that escaped her betrayed her completely. He was ridiculous. And for that odd reason, she adored him for it.
"Can we go for round two?" he asked.
"No," she said, and he chuckled.
"Your boobies are looking way too sexy right now, baby," he whispered. "like mommy type."
"Want me to kick you out?" she responded.
"No," he chuckled again.
"Then shut up and sleep," She warned, already closing her eyes.
He smiled, pulling the blanket higher, snuggling properly, slightly tickling her.
They stayed like that, tangled together, whispering nonsense, teasing each other over nothing at all. Their laughter softened into quiet smiles, their words trailing into sleepy murmurs.
Eventually, still wrapped around each other, they drifted into sleep, satisfied, warm. Dreaming, quietly and unknowingly, about a future they both hoped would feel exactly like this.