WebNovels

Chapter 30 - Soft Hours

 I woke up with the faint ache of contentment still lingering in my chest. 

It was the kind of peace that didn't need to be loud; the kind that simply existed, like the air between two steady breaths.

Ken had already left for work. 

His side of the bed was empty, sheets rumpled, still holding the warmth of him. 

I traced my fingers along the spot where his arm had rested across me, a quiet smile tugging at my lips.

It was strange, this calm.

But here, in this old town, in this small apartment next to his, I was finally breathing for real.

I sat up, the air cooled against my skin, and listened. 

The world outside was alive with the hum of ordinary life, vendors calling, children laughing, the rhythmic sound of a tricycle engine. 

I tied my hair loosely, threw on a hoodie, and decided to take a walk.

I didn't really have a destination.

 I just wanted to feel again. 

The streets were narrow, lined with fruit stalls and small bakeries. 

I stopped by one and bought a cup of coffee, the kind that was too sweet but comforting in its simplicity.

As I sipped it, I realized how foreign this version of me must look, no makeup, no camera, no spotlight. 

Just a girl, quietly existing.

And maybe, for the first time, that was enough.

I wandered toward the pier, where the sea stretched endlessly before me. 

The scent of salt and sunlight mixed in the air. 

I watched the waves curl and break, and thought of Ken, the way his laugh sounded when he tried to hold it in, the way he always seemed to see me even when I didn't want to be seen.

I wondered if he was thinking about me, too.

When the afternoon light began to fade, I found myself walking toward the hospital.

I didn't plan it; my feet just carried me there. 

Maybe I just wanted to see him, even from a distance.

The lobby was busy, nurses rushing past, patients sitting quietly with their families. 

And then, there he was Ken, in his white coat, focused, calm, his voice low as he spoke to a nurse.

Something inside me softened at the sight. 

He looked tired, but there was a steadiness in him, a quiet strength that made the world feel safe.

I waited for him outside, sitting on a bench near the gate. 

The sun was setting, painting everything gold. 

I scrolled aimlessly through my phone, ignoring the messages from my manager, my parents, and the press. 

None of it felt real anymore.

What felt real was the sound of his footsteps approaching.

"You've been waiting long?" Ken asked, his voice light, teasing.

I looked up and smiled. "Not really."

He sat beside me, loosening his tie. "You didn't have to wait."

"I wanted to," I said simply.

He looked at me for a moment, eyes softening, then stood. "Come on. Let's get ice cream before it gets dark."

The walk to the ice cream stand wasn't long, but it felt infinite in the best way. 

The air was thick with the scent of street food, laughter echoing from nearby stalls. 

We shared a vanilla cone with chocolate drizzle, his favorite, not mine.

"Why vanilla?" I teased. "That's so boring."

He smirked. "Simple things last longer."

I rolled my eyes. "That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard."

"Maybe," he said, licking a bit of melted ice cream off his thumb, "but it's true."

The sight made me laugh, but it also stirred something deep inside me. something warm and terrifying.

We walked side by side, shoulders brushing.

 At some point, his hand found mine. 

It wasn't planned; it just happened. 

Natural. 

Easy. 

His fingers fit between mine like they belonged there.

And suddenly, the world stopped spinning so fast.

The streetlights flickered to life as we walked back home, the air cooling as the night settled in. 

We didn't talk much, we didn't need to. 

Every silence between us was comfortable, filled with the kind of understanding that words could ruin.

When we reached the corner of our street, I looked up at him. "You know," I said quietly, "I never liked evenings before."

"Why?"

"They always reminded me of endings."

He squeezed my hand lightly. "Not all evenings mean goodbye, Ysabelle."

Something about the way he said my name made me want to cry.

We reached our apartments, standing between our doors like it was the most natural place in the world. He turned to me, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks for waiting for me today."

"I'll do it again," I said, almost a whisper.

He chuckled softly. "Goodnight."

But before he could turn away, I stepped closer and rested my head lightly against his chest. 

He froze for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around me.

No words, no promises. 

Just that quiet, perfect moment when everything felt right.

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