May woke slowly, blinking at the soft light filtering through her apartment. Her head was heavy, her limbs sluggish, but memories from earlier drifted back, clear and surreal. Lucien had been here—still was here, if the low sounds of someone moving in the other room were any sign. The man was persistent, determined to look after her, and as much as she resisted, there was a warmth in her chest. She wasn't used to anyone staying around like this.
She remembered bits and pieces—Lucien feeding her soup, getting his doctor to check on her, and that steady, familiar presence beside her. At one point, she'd overheard his harsh whisper to someone on the phone, his words sharp and impatient, though she'd been too groggy to decipher the meaning.
With a deep breath, she turned her head and spotted him seated at the little table by the window, his laptop open, eyes intently focused on the screen. He looked every bit the confident powerhouse in his world, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing his forearms, lean and strong. Even now, he looked almost too good to be real, his presence filling her tiny apartment as if he belonged there.
She attempted to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit her, forcing her back down. Immediately, Lucien was at her side, abandoning his laptop and steadying her.
"Take it easy, angel," he murmured, his worry plain in his eyes.
She sighed, leaning against him for support. "I don't remember a cold ever feeling this intense," she admitted, frustrated by how tired and weak she felt.
"That's because, according to the doctor, your body's worn down from stress," he said softly. "You've been pushing yourself too hard, May. You need rest."
"But I have a shift tomorrow," she protested weakly. "I can't just miss work. I need to get my strength back."
Lucien's jaw tensed, a glint of stubbornness flashing in his eyes. "You need to rest. I'll call in for you."
She looked at him, a half-amused, half-frustrated smile tugging at her lips. "You'll get me fired, Lucien."
"And who would dare fire you?" he replied, his tone calm but resolute, a hint of amusement breaking through.
She laughed softly, already imagining the scene. "Fine. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Romano, I can't come in today. I'm really sick.'" She gave him a mock serious look, which made him chuckle as he handed her a glass of water.
Taking a few sips, she shifted restlessly. "I'd like to take a shower. I must smell terrible."
Lucien helped her stand, steadying her as he led her to the bathroom. As she opened the door, he looked around and raised an eyebrow at the array of products lining the shelves.
"Wow, that's... a lot of products," he commented, sounding half-impressed, half-amused.
She gave a small smile, feeling a bit more herself. "This is my sanctuary."
When he reached out, beginning to help lift her hoodie over her head, she gently placed her hand on his arm, stopping him. "I can handle it from here, Mr. Romano."
The heat in his gaze softened, a flicker of something tender as he looked at her flushed face. "Knock if you need anything. I'll be right outside."
She nodded, watching him turn and step out, closing the door softly behind him. As she leaned against the counter, a small smile crept onto her lips.
