Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer white curtains, casting golden stripes across the bedspread and warming the quiet room with a gentle hush. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and something distinctly Marcus—a mix of cologne and home. Outside, the early hum of the city had yet to fully begin, just the occasional distant whoosh of tires on wet pavement and the quiet drip of rain from the roof.
Robyn stirred slowly, her lashes fluttering before her eyes even opened. For a moment, she just breathed, her body wrapped in warmth, still half-cocooned in the haze of sleep. She shifted slightly, adjusting her weight as she realized Marcus's arm was extended beneath her head like a pillow, strong and steady. Without thinking, she turned, nestling herself closer until her cheek rested against his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat greeted her, rhythmic and peaceful.
There was something about mornings like this that made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t expected—something gentle, deep, and terrifying. It had taken them so long to get here, to this place of peace. She had never truly let herself relax in someone’s presence like this. Not fully. But Marcus—he had never given her a reason to doubt. He showed up. Always. No matter how complicated, how chaotic, how broken things felt, he showed up. And when she unraveled, piece by piece, he never flinched. It scared her, how safe she felt. How much of her soul he held.
Her eyes drifted up to his face. He was still asleep, his brow relaxed, mouth slightly parted. His eyelashes were long, unfairly so, and she couldn’t help but trace the curve of his jaw with her gaze. Vulnerable didn’t begin to describe what she felt in this moment. But it was also beautiful.
Her fingers, barely moving, began to trace soft circles along his abs—abs she’d seen tense in danger and soften in laughter. The movement was soothing, for her more than him, but it had its effect.
Marcus's breathing changed.
Then, slowly, his arm draped across her waist, pulling her in just a little more.
"You always wake up before me," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
She smiled faintly. "Someone has to keep an eye on you. Make sure you’re not sleep-talking again."
He let out a low chuckle, eyes still closed. "You’re never gonna let that go, huh?"
"Twice now, Marcus."
He cracked one eye open, meeting her gaze. There was something soft there—something private. Like she was the first and last thing he wanted to see each day.
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, slow and lingering.
"How’d you sleep?" he asked quietly, brushing a stray curl away from her face.
"Better than I have in weeks," she admitted, fingertips splayed gently against his chest. "You?"
"With you here?" He gave a lazy smile. "Didn’t stand a chance of anything less than perfect."
She didn’t answer. Instead, she lifted her face toward his, and their lips met in a kiss that was unhurried — tender and deep, like the kind of kiss that says I see you. I feel you. I’m here.
When they pulled apart, breath mingling, they stayed close. Foreheads touching. Smiling.
After a quiet moment, she whispered, "I'm going to go take a shower."
He gave a small nod, voice thick with sleep. "Okay."
Robyn carefully slid out of bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. She wrapped her robe around herself, tying it loosely as she stood. Then she glanced over her shoulder with a look that held no teasing — only softness. A silent kind of intimacy.
She padded toward the bathroom, steps slow and light. And just before reaching the door, without a word, she let the robe slip from her shoulders and fall into a soft heap on the floor.
Marcus blinked.
"Oh, hell no."
He tossed the covers back, already moving, his laughter rising as he followed her into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind them, laughter fading into the warmth of steam and water.
After their shower, as they reemerged, towels wrapped around their waists, skin still glistening from the heat. She moved with ease, toweling her hair as he tugged on sweats, their movements falling into the rhythm of routine. Comfortable. Familiar. Close.
They moved in sync, dressing in the quiet rhythm they’d found together.
In the kitchen, they worked side by side, cutting fruit, scrambling eggs, their arms brushing now and then. Music played low in the background—some old R&B song she loved and he remembered. She reached past him for a mug, and he kissed her temple without thinking.
Breakfast was filled with the kind of laughter that only lived between people who knew each other well. Inside jokes. Shared glances. The warmth of something that couldn’t be faked.
An hour later, Robyn was tangled up with Marcus on the couch, his arm draped lazily across her shoulders as she scrolled through case files on her tablet. The room was dimly lit, cozy—the kind of quiet that settled between two people who had found their rhythm. Her legs were tucked beneath her, and she wore Marcus's oversized hoodie, her bare toes peeking out from under the hem.
They’d been solid for months now, building something unspoken.Something real, something that pulsed between them in every glance, every touch. It was in the way Marcus knew exactly when to pull her closer, when to give her space to breathe, like they were both learning each other’s rhythm without a word. Robyn had this way of easing his tension without trying, just by being near. And when she smiled, the world seemed to pause, just for him. No matter how much distance there was between them, there was always an unspoken pull, a gravity they couldn’t ignore. Their connection was undeniable, even in the quietest moments.
But moments like these never stayed hidden for long.
The doorbell rang.
A sharp, clean chime that cut through the comfort like a blade.
Robyn blinked, startled out of her peaceful daze. She tilted her head up, eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Marcus. "You expecting anyone?"
Marcus glanced towards the door, his hand absently brushing through her hair before he pulled away, his body moving reluctantly. "No," he said, his voice low, tinged with an edge of uncertainty.
Robyn sat up, watching him as he swung his legs over the side of the couch. The quiet tension between them shifted, the sudden interruption pulling them apart.
With a soft sigh, Marcus stood up, running a hand through his hair. He moved toward the door, his footsteps steady but his posture stiff, like he was already bracing for something he didn’t understand.
Robyn watched him, feeling that uneasy stir of something unspoken in the air. He paused, just before pulling it open. His body locked, his muscles rigid.
The door swung open.
And Marcus stopped. Completely. As if someone had turned off the gravity in the room.
Robyn couldn’t see who was standing there, but whoever it was, it made Marcus freeze.
He didn’t breathe.
He didn’t move.
And in that frozen second, Robyn knew something had just shifted in a way neither of them could prepare for.