I found You

chapter 11 - comfort

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The soft glow of morning light crept through the curtains as Jules slowly opened her eyes, the sharp pang of a headache tugging her back into reality. She blinked, adjusting to the unfamiliar surroundings. A moment of confusion gripped her as she took in the elegant, minimalistic decor—definitely not her bedroom.

Sitting up slowly, she realized she was in a king-sized bed, surrounded by clean linens and the faint scent of something like cedarwood. This wasn’t just any place; it felt refined, masculine, private. Her mind raced. Where am I?

She instinctively checked her clothes. They were still on, perfectly intact. A wave of relief washed over her, even as questions began to mount. Taking a deep breath, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, noticing her own belongings—her phone, bag, and even a small bottle of painkillers she didn’t remember bringing—all neatly arranged on the bedside table.

With some hesitation, she stood and made her way to the washroom, where, to her surprise, everything she needed was waiting for her: a fresh towel, toiletries, and her change of clothes. She couldn’t help but smile, a strange warmth filling her. It was almost as if someone had anticipated her every need. As she took a quick shower, her mind kept circling back. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had gone out of their way to make her comfortable.

Once she was dressed and feeling slightly more herself, Jules opened the bedroom door, stepping into a wide, open living area. Her gaze landed on a figure sitting near the window, a newspaper in his hands.

Michael.

For a moment, she just watched him. His posture was relaxed, his hair slightly tousled, with a kind of calm she wasn’t used to seeing. He looked up, catching her gaze. “Good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and controlled, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Good morning,” she replied, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, feeling strangely exposed in the quiet intimacy of his space. Before she could find the words to ask the hundred questions swirling in her mind, Michael gestured towards the kitchen. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Thank you…” she murmured, casting him a quick look as she turned and walked toward the kitchen, feeling his eyes follow her for just a second longer than necessary.

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In the Kitchen

As Jules entered, a warm smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs filled the air. A woman she didn’t recognize was at the stove, her presence both comforting and surprising.

“Good morning, Miss,” the woman said warmly, offering a gentle smile. “Can I get you anything else for breakfast?”

“Oh, this is more than enough. Thank you,” Jules replied, settling herself at the counter. She took a sip of coffee and then hesitated before asking, “Were you the one who prepared everything in the room…my clothes, the towel, all of it?”

The housekeeper paused, looking almost amused. “No, ma’am. I just arrived this morning. That was all Sir’s doing.”

Jules’s eyes widened in surprise. “Michael?”

“Yes,” the housekeeper replied with a knowing smile. “Sir doesn’t bring anyone here, you know. Not even colleagues or friends, let alone a guest in his own bedroom. This is…different.”

The words hung in the air, each one settling heavily on Jules. She looked down, her cheeks flushing slightly. Michael had made her comfortable. He had stayed in a different room, thoughtfully ensuring her privacy and preparing everything she needed, all without a word.

“Sir didn’t want you to feel any discomfort, I suppose,” the housekeeper continued, her tone soft but watchful. “He’s very private, but with you, it seems he made an exception.”

Jules felt her heart race, a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn’t quite place. Her gaze drifted back to the living room where Michael still sat, now quietly reading, oblivious to the conversation in the kitchen.

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Returning to the Living Room

Feeling the weight of the morning’s revelations, Jules stepped back into the living room, her eyes lingering on Michael’s relaxed form. He looked up, meeting her gaze with a calm but unreadable expression.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, though she knew he’d hear it.

“For what?” he replied, an edge of surprise in his tone.

“For…everything,” she replied, struggling to find the right words. “For taking care of things. For…” She trailed off, feeling her cheeks heat up under his steady gaze.

He simply nodded, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “You needed rest,” he said, as if that explained everything.

The simplicity of his answer only made her heart ache more. She wanted to say more, to understand more, but for now, she simply held onto the quiet understanding between them. For now, it was enough.