Chapter 162 The Morning After
[EVE]
I was a wreck the entire night, unable to find any peace after what had happened.
Sleep came in fleeting moments, too shallow to be restful, leaving me tangled in a haze of exhaustion and confusion.
Right now, the last thing I wanted was to face Cole. My bedroom felt like the only safe haven I had, though deep down, I knew even that security was an illusion—he could breach it effortlessly if he wanted to.
I tried to sleep again, forcing my body to relax, but my mind betrayed me, replaying every moment, every word, every kiss.
When morning finally arrived, the light filtering through the curtains felt like a cruel joke.
Huh?
How long had I been asleep? Or had I even slept at all?
Groggy and disoriented, I dragged myself out of bed, forcing myself through the motions of my morning routine. My mind clung to the faint hope that Cole was still in his own unit, far away from me, and that I wouldn't have to face him just yet.
But it seemed karma had other plans.
As I stepped out of my bedroom, I froze.
The once monochromatic tones of my unit had burst to life, suddenly awash with vibrant color. Bouquets of flowers adorned every surface, their petals a riot of hues that painted warmth into every corner. Vases stood proudly on tables and counters, spilling blossoms that made the air rich with a heady fragrance.
My unit—once cold and impersonal—had transformed into something entirely different. Something alive. Something that felt like home.
I blinked, disoriented, the unfamiliar coziness wrapping around me like an embrace.
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"W-what . . . what is this?" I murmured, my voice trembling as I took it all in. Was this really
my
unit?
And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, my feet carried me to the kitchen. There, among the soft glow of the morning light and the scent of freshly cut flowers, I found my answer.
It was him. Of course, it was him.
Cole stood at the stove, fresh from the shower. His damp hair clung to his forehead, the faint scent of his shampoo drifting through the air.
He wore a light blue, long-sleeve turtleneck that clung to his lean frame, paired with white pants that made him look effortlessly clean and composed. An apron hung loosely around his waist as he moved with surprising ease, flipping something in a pan.
Meanwhile, I stood there, feeling utterly disheveled. My hair was a tangled mess, my face still puffy from sleep—or lack thereof—and I probably looked like I'd just been dragged out of bed by a tornado.
For a moment, I could only stare, the sight of him so annoyingly picturesque that it made my stomach twist.
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking onto mine with an infuriating calm. "Good morning," he said smoothly, as if nothing had happened last night—as if he hadn't turned my entire world upside down.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I tried to find a response. But the only thing I could focus on was the infuriating contrast between his effortless composure and my complete lack of it.
Why did he have to look like that? Why did he have to act like he owned every room he walked into?
I clenched my fists at my sides, willing myself to keep it together. This was going to be a long morning.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice rising in confusion. "What's all this? And why are you in my kitchen, wearing an apron, and cooking?"
Cole's lips curled into a soft smile, one that seemed to grow warmer, more genuine, with each passing day.
It was a smile I wasn't used to seeing on him—softer, almost tender. He didn't look like the same man anymore, and I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.
"I told you, didn't I?" he replied, his voice steady but filled with an intensity that sent a strange flutter through my chest. "You said I had to prove myself to you, that I had to show you I could be the man you deserve. Well . . . I'm doing exactly that."
He stepped closer, the scent of his shampoo mixing with the aromas of the meal he was preparing. His eyes locked onto mine with determination.
"From now on, I'll give you everything I can," Cole said, his voice steady, but the sincerity in it made my heart skip. "Fresh bouquets every morning—flowers that remind you that I'm thinking of you, always. I'll cook for you, take care of your home, and make sure you never have to worry about anything.
"Whatever you need, whenever you need it, I'll be there. If it means moving mountains to make you happy, I'll do it. No request is too much. All you have to do is ask, and I'll make sure you have everything you deserve."
His words weren't just promises—they were a quiet vow, spoken with the kind of certainty that made it feel like he meant it with every part of himself.
For a moment, I wasn't sure if he was just saying things—promises he thought would be enough to win me over—or if he truly meant them.
But something in the way he said it, the way he looked at me, told me that his determination was more than just words. He was prepared to give me everything. The question was, would I be willing to accept it?
I sighed, rubbing my temples.
It was way too early, and I hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the entire night.
Cole must've noticed because, in a split second, he was right there beside me. The sudden closeness made me take a step back, and before I knew it, I was wobbling, about to butt-plant straight into the floor.
But then his hand was on my waist, steadying me with a swift grip.
There was a genuine concern on his face as he looked at me and asked innocently, "Looks like you didn't get enough sleep. You okay?"
I shot him a pointed look.
And whose fault is that?!
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