Wish you were mine

43. Unspoken Rings

PENELOPE

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the window, falling delicately across my face. I stirred slowly, stretching like a lazy kitten, my muscles aching from both exhaustion and stress. I turned to bury my face into the pillow-only to freeze.

Wait.

A pillow?

Last night, I fell asleep without one.
My eyes snapped open, heart thudding with sudden panic. Did something happen? Was I so tired I didn't notice? My gaze darted to the middle of the bed, where my carefully constructed pillow wall still stood-firm and untouched.
Then I turned to the other side.

Sean's side was empty, the duvet messy, and no pillow in sight. My eyes widened in realization.

He gave me his pillow.

Why?

Wasn't he the one who insisted he was exhausted and needed a proper night's sleep? I shook my head and sighed. This man made no sense. And frankly, I wasn't interested in making sense of him either.

I was still mulling over the odd gesture when I heard the door open. I glanced up-and instantly regretted it.

There he was.

Fresh out of the shower, water still dripping from his dark hair, a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. His sculpted frame looked like it had walked straight out of a Renaissance painting-if the artists back then had access to protein shakes and gym memberships.

My throat went dry.

I tried to look away. I really did. But my eyes had a will of their own and decided to ogle like a lovesick teenager. It was shameless, really.

"If you're done checking me out," his voice sliced through the silence, "we leave in an hour."

It was like someone had thrown cold water on my face. My cheeks flushed in embarrassment as I scrambled out of bed, rushing toward the bathroom with whatever dignity I could salvage.

Inside, I gripped the sink, took a deep breath, and splashed water on my face.

Get a grip, Penelope.

After a quick shower, I reached for the bathrobe only to realize one crucial thing-I hadn't brought my clothes in. Perfect. Just perfect.

But if he could parade around in a towel, I could wear a bathrobe. Equality, right?
I stepped out, half expecting to walk into another shirtless encounter, but the room was blessedly empty. I exhaled in relief and dragged my suitcase to the bed, flipping it open.

This was our first appearance as a married couple. I needed to look effortless, yet formidable.

I chose a cream halter-neck top with a soft drape and a subtle keyhole neckline-elegant but strong. Paired with high-waisted black wide-leg trousers and gold-toned accessories-a slim watch, a dainty bracelet, and a chic belt. My tan YSL bucket bag added structure to the outfit, and my white heels gave me just enough height to match Sean's arrogance.