The first light of morning filtered through the sheer curtains, dim and golden. Dust motes floated lazily in the still air, catching in the sunbeam that cut diagonally across the bed.
Adrian woke before the warmth reached his face.
His eyes opened slowly, unfazed by the unfamiliar ceiling or the soft linens that didn't belong to him. The room was quiet, the silence broken only by the slow, steady breathing of the woman beside him.
Lauren lay half-curled beneath the covers, bare shoulders peeking out from the tangle of sheets. Her hair was a dark, chaotic spread across the pillow soft, uneven waves that covered part of her cheek. Her lips were parted slightly, the curve of her mouth relaxed in sleep.
He watched her for a while.
Not out of affection.
but analysis.
Her body language was completely unguarded. No tension. No hesitation. It was the kind of sleep that only followed physical exhaustion paired with emotional release.
Relaxing enough, he thought. At least I didn't disappoint.
He stretched out a leg beneath the sheets, flexing the muscle lightly. His body felt steady, balanced. Not sore, not fatigued. Realizers didn't break easily not from something as simple as intimacy.
The stamina of a Realizer has its benefits.
He sat up slowly, the sheets falling to his waist. Cool air met his skin, but he didn't shiver. Instead, he let his gaze travel across the room taking it in now, not as a participant, but as an observer.
The apartment was small but lived in.
A shelf of half-burned candles. Two mismatched mugs on the desk. A few books stacked beside the mirror, all bookmarked in the middle. A photograph on the nightstand faced down, frame chipped. Deliberate avoidance.
No signs of another partner. No protective energy in the space. Just her.
He leaned back against the headboard and exhaled through his nose.
Your dream came true, original Adrian, he mused, eyes half-lidded. You should thank me.
It was almost poetic. The man whose body he now wore had crushed on this woman for years. Stared at her in stolen moments. Fumbled through conversations with half-smiles and hesitation.
And now, here they were.
No strings. No promises. Just a memory for her and an efficient transaction for me.
There was no guilt. Not even the shadow of it.
Lauren had made her choice. She'd stepped into this freely. She hadn't asked for more, and he hadn't pretended to offer it.
What they shared was a moment.
Nothing less. Nothing more.
She made a soft sound half sigh, half breath then blinked against the light. Her hand reached out instinctively, brushing against his thigh beneath the sheets.
"Mmmn… morning," she mumbled.
Adrian looked down at her, one brow raised.
She blinked again and met his gaze. For a second, she looked disoriented then recognition lit her face, followed immediately by self-consciousness.
Her cheeks flushed.
"You're awake already?"
"I don't sleep in," he said.
She yawned, pulled the sheet higher over her chest, then glanced around for her shirt.
Adrian smirked faintly.
"Your voice was much louder than expected, you know."
Lauren's eyes widened in horror.
"Oh my god"
She lunged for the nearest pillow and swung it at him. He caught it without effort.
"You're actually evil," she muttered, face half-buried in the blanket now.
"Not yet," he said, deadpan.
She groaned. "Why do I feel like you just turned my entire existence into a footnote?"
He tilted his head. "Because you're hungover and melodramatic."
Lauren laughed despite herself, one hand rubbing her face. "Okay. That's fair."
They sat in silence for a minute. No rush. No demands. Just the kind of post-midnight peace that rarely lasted beyond sunrise.
Adrian moved to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows resting lightly on his knees. He looked down at the floor as she sat up behind him, adjusting the sheet around her body.
"You're so different now," she said after a moment. "It's like you came back to work a new person."
"I needed the change," he said without looking at her.
"You're still quiet. Still serious. But there's this…" She searched for the word. "Presence. Like you've stopped trying to disappear."
"I wasn't trying," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "I was just easy to overlook."
"Not to me."
That made him pause.
She was shifting.
Emotion was rising.
And here it came.
Lauren exhaled, then reached for the shirt crumpled on the side table. As she pulled it over her head, she spoke softer now, less certain.
"Can I say something stupid?"
He waited.
"I've liked you for three years."
He didn't move.
"Ever since residency," she continued. "Back when I was falling apart, and no one wanted to deal with me. You were the only one who never looked at me like I was weak. You didn't try to save me or pity me. You just… saw me."
Adrian let the silence stretch.
She swallowed. "And I know you've changed. You're not the same person I knew. But last night felt real. So I guess I just… wanted to know how you feel."
She looked up, eyes steady. "About me."
Adrian stood and reached for his shirt.
He buttoned it slowly, thinking.
Then said, without turning around:
"I can't accept your feelings. Not right now."
Her face didn't fall.
"But…" he added, slipping on his watch, "that doesn't mean there isn't a chance. I won't pretend I can see the future. But if things shift… if time allows…"
He left the sentence hanging.
Lauren nodded slowly. "It's okay. I get it"
"No heartbreak?"
She smiled, just a little. "I think you're out of my league now. Always were. I just didn't want to regret not saying it"
He looked at her, finally. Eyes calm. Lips neutral.
"You won't regret this"
She nodded again. "I know"
......
The front gate clicked shut behind him with a quiet metallic snap.
Adrian walked up the narrow path toward the front door of the house, passing the trimmed hedges that lined the walkway. The early morning sun cast long, golden shadows across the white stone tiles. Dew clung to the edges of the grass, and the soft scent of brewed tea and toasted bread floated faintly from the kitchen window.
He reached the door and pushed it open.
No need for keys. He'd texted the family group last night: Not coming home today.
So naturally, someone would be waiting.
And sure enough, there she was.
Tessa Vale sat at the living room couch, one leg folded under her, arms crossed, a steaming mug of coffee resting casually in one hand. The television was on, but muted some morning news talk show with colorful graphics and flashing headlines. Her eyes weren't on the screen.
They were on him.
She must have woken up early to interrogate me
Adrian stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him.
He didn't even speak.
Tessa tilted her head. "So."
Adrian looked at her, silent.
"You didn't come home."
He nodded.
"That's fine. Adults are allowed to have lives. Adults can sleep out. Adults can make… decisions." Her tone shifted slightly. "But would you like to explain why you currently smell like cigarette smoke, hotel shampoo, and someone else's laundry detergent?"
Adrian dropped his keys onto the table beside the door. His jacket hung neatly on the hook with a practiced flick.
"I was with someone," he said.
A pause.
Tessa blinked once.
Then twice.
Then she sat forward slowly, mug still in hand, disbelief starting to crack through her face.
"Wait. What?"
"I didn't come home because I was with someone."
Another beat of silence. Then she sputtered into her coffee.
"No. Hold on. You don't get to just casually drop a bomb like that and walk away from it like it's normal." She stood now, pointing at him with her free hand. "You? You spent the night with a person?"
Adrian stepped out of his shoes and walked toward the hall.
"I'm going to change."
"No, no, no," she said, following. "This is not normal behavior. I've lived with you for years"
"I know what your 'I'm going to change' face looks like. It means you're trying to dodge the conversation."
He paused halfway to the stairs. The sun through the living room window caught the light sheen on his jaw. His hair was still styled from yesterday, though slightly tousled at the sides. His shirt was wrinkled, and there was a faint, lingering scent of unfamiliar body wash clinging to his skin.
Tessa sniffed the air like a detective.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "You really did it."
Adrian arched an eyebrow.
She laughed in disbelief. "You got laid."
He didn't answer.
"You. You got laid." She walked a circle around him like she was trying to make sure he wasn't a hologram. "My emotionally stunted, unreadable little brother who once spent a full week reorganizing the medicine cabinet alphabetically. You actually slept with someone."
"I'm still technically emotionally unreadable," he said mildly.
"Which is terrifying and unfair," she muttered. "Okay, so who was it? Someone from work? Don't tell me. It was a Nurse"
"No."
"Then…" Her eyes narrowed, then widened. "Lauren?"
He started walking again.
"Oh my god it was Lauren. You seduced your junior! Did you lean against the doorframe and say something mysterious until she lost her mind?"
"No seduction involved."
Tessa groaned. "Ptuii, As if"
Adrian ignored her.
He turned down the hall and entered his bedroom. Sunlight fell across his bed from the high windows. A breeze moved faintly through the half-open window. He crossed the room, opened his closet, and pulled out a clean gray suit.
Behind him, Tessa leaned in the doorway with her arms still folded.
"I should be proud of you," she said. "But mostly I feel like I missed the warning signs that you were about to become... whatever this is."
"I shaved," he said. "That was your warning."
"I thought you were just having a good week. Not entering a new era of sexual conquest."
He shot her a look.
She grinned.
"Fine. I'll shut up. But for the record, Mom is going to faint when she finds out."
"She won't," he said, pulling the shirt over his shoulders.
"She will. Because I'm telling her."
He finished dressing in silence, then adjusted the cuffs, buttoned the suit, and moved to the mirror. The gray was sharp and understated clean lines, tailored without flash. The kind of suit worn by someone with no interest in applause.
He stood there a moment, adjusting the collar.
Tessa watched from the door.
"You've changed," she said again, more quietly this time. "It's not just the suit. Or the attitude. Something in your eyes is different."
"I see more clearly now."
"That's either very deep or very ominous."
He glanced at her in the mirror. "It's both."
Tessa leaned her shoulder against the wall.
"Just be careful," she said.
"Don't go so far ahead that none of us can reach you anymore."
"I'm not here to be reached."
She frowned. "That's what I'm afraid of."
He finished tying his tie with practiced precision, then picked up his bag from the desk.
Tessa stepped aside as he passed.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"
He paused just before the door. Looked back.
"I had a good night," he said.
Then walked out.
The sun was higher now, casting clean shadows across the street. The day smelled of summer warm concrete and distant flowers. Cars passed slowly on the quiet road.
Adrian walked down the front steps of the house with perfect posture. The gray suit fit like a glove. Not flashy. Not loud.
Just precise.
He moved like someone with nothing to prove and everything ahead of him.
Waiting by the curb was his motorcycle. Midnight black, low-bodied, modified with a matte finish and chrome accents so subtle they caught only the strongest light. A helmet rested on the seat sleek, mirrored, unreadable.
Adrian slipped it on without ceremony, adjusted the strap, and swung his leg over the frame in one fluid motion.
The engine rumbled to life beneath him, quiet but powerful like a whisper from something deep underground.
He didn't rev it.
He didn't need to.
The bike surged forward smoothly as he twisted the throttle, gliding out onto the main road without hesitation.
Wind caught the edge of his blazer as he accelerated. The city blurred ahead familiar buildings, signal lights, passing cars.
Behind the visor, his eyes remained still.