Painted

Chapter 24

The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting soft, golden rays over the room. Rebecca stirred first, the warmth of Sarocha’s body pressed against her back grounding her before she even opened her eyes. The events of the previous evening replayed in fragments—Sarocha’s steady voice, her reassuring touch, the silk scarves... and the way she’d felt safe for the first time in what felt like forever.

Sarocha shifted beside her, her arm tightening instinctively around Rebecca’s waist as her lips brushed against Rebecca’s shoulder.

“Morning,” Sarocha murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Rebecca turned slightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You’re a little clingy for someone who claims to be in charge.”

Sarocha chuckled, her fingers trailing lazily up Rebecca’s side. “And you’re a little cheeky for someone who was tied up just a few hours ago.”

Rebecca’s cheeks flushed, but the teasing tone in Sarocha’s voice made her laugh. “I feel like I should argue, but... I kind of like this side of you.”

Sarocha’s grin softened into something more tender as she leaned in, kissing Rebecca’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Rebecca paused, her gaze dropping as she considered the question. “Better,” she admitted. “Last night... it helped more than I thought it would. I didn’t feel weak, you know? I felt—”

“Strong,” Sarocha finished for her, brushing a strand of hair behind Rebecca’s ear.

Rebecca nodded, her voice quieter. “Strong, and safe. Thank you.”

Sarocha cupped Rebecca’s face, her thumb grazing her cheek. “You don’t have to thank me, Beck. I told you—I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Rebecca closed the small gap between them, her lips meeting Sarocha’s in a slow, languid kiss. When they finally pulled apart, Sarocha grinned.

“If this is how you thank me, I might have to tie you up more often,” she teased, earning an exaggerated eye-roll from Rebecca.

“Don’t push your luck,” Rebecca replied, though her smile betrayed her. Their laughter filled the room, the kind of easy, unguarded joy that came from trust and love.

After a few more lazy minutes tangled together in the sheets, Sarocha finally nudged Rebecca toward getting up. “If we stay here any longer, we’ll end up wasting the whole day,” she said, though she made no effort to move herself.

Rebecca sat up, running a hand through her hair, the sunlight catching on her tousled strands. She gave Sarocha a playful glance over her shoulder. “You’re the one still lying down. Who’s wasting time now?”

Sarocha smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. “It’s not wasting time if I’m admiring you.”

Rebecca scoffed, though her cheeks flushed faintly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Sarocha quipped, finally swinging her legs out of bed. She padded over to Rebecca, looping her arms around her waist from behind. “Come on, let’s make breakfast. Something simple. No work talk, no stress—just us.”

They moved to the kitchen, the space bathed in soft morning light. Sarocha opened the fridge, pulling out ingredients while Rebecca grabbed plates and utensils.

“What are we making?” Rebecca asked, leaning against the counter.

“Eggs and toast,” Sarocha replied, cracking an egg with practiced ease. “Simple, but effective. Like me.”