SLEEPING DRUG

Carlos stared at the birds soaring beyond the glass wall, his hands buried in his pockets. A strange unease gripped him as he pondered what felt so off. For the first time in a long while, he felt refreshed—an unfamiliar sensation. His sleeping pills usually granted him just two hours of restless slumber, plagued by nightmares that left him drenched in sweat. But today, something was different.

He poured wine into a glass filled with ice, the liquid swirling as his thoughts churned. Taking a seat, he wheeled his chair closer to the glass wall, leaning back as he tried to relax. Yet, the feeling of unease lingered, leaving him flustered and bewildered.

He arrived earlier than usual that day, and as always, everyone hurried down to greet him, their movements stiff with dread. From her room window, she watched him step out of the car, his secretary trailing close behind. His eyes, dark and piercing, roamed over the crowd, sharp and unrelenting, as if searching for prey.

Something was terrifying about the way he moved, the way his presence filled the space like a storm about to break. His gaze, cold and predatory, suddenly snapped upward, landing directly on her. Her blood ran cold. Panic surged through her as she stumbled back, slamming the window shut. Her heart thundered against her ribs, the sound deafening in the suffocating silence of her room.

She stood in front of the mirror for almost an hour, her thoughts spiraling in panic. She knew she needed to act, but how? Her fear of him was suffocating, yet the fear of death—whether today or tomorrow—was even worse. She had clung to a fragile hope that the icy demon might grant her permission to visit her father the next day.

Gathering every ounce of courage, she entered the master's bedroom. As always, he was in his usual spot, a glass of wine filled with ice in his hand. She had often wondered what he saw in that darkness beyond the glass wall. The view was bleak—a dense forest cloaked in shadows, cold and unwelcoming. But he was a demon. What else had she expected?

Moving silently, she tiptoed to the bed and lay down at the very edge, her body trembling. She prayed for her limbs to obey her, to stay perfectly still. Carlos, still seated with his wine, contemplated his insomnia. Tonight, he had refused his sleeping drug. If sleep eluded him, he would take it later—but first, he needed to confirm something.

After finishing his wine, he went to bed, his mind restless. Lying on his back, he stared at the ceiling, unable to find the peace that had somehow visited him the night before. Just as he was about to rise and reach for his sleeping pills, he froze.

Something—no, someone—was moving toward him. Slowly, hesitantly, the small figure rolled closer. His breath caught as her tiny hands wrapped around his arm and then shifted to embrace him fully. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind reeling. No one had ever dared to touch him—much less hold him.

But the strangest part wasn't her audacity; it was his own reaction. He didn't hate it. Not at all.

She settled against his chest, her hand resting lightly over his heart, her head nestled against him. An urge to push her away surged within him, but another fear held him back: waking her. And worse, seeing the terror in her eyes again.

For the first time in his existence, he felt something foreign, something warm. He lay still, unwilling to break the fragile peace she had found in his arms.

The truth was, he had always hated that she was afraid of him. Fear was something he lived with, something he had long since mastered. He had grown used to the way people shook in his presence, their wide, terrified eyes barely able to meet his. But her fear? It stung in a way he couldn't understand. Her trembling, her hesitation—he wasn't used to that coming from her, and it gnawed at him more than it should.

Carlos looked down at the fragile, angelic creature resting in his arms. Her face was serene, her breathing soft and rhythmic, as though she had found solace in him—of all people. It made no sense. How could someone who feared him so deeply sleep so peacefully beside him?

Her warmth pressed against him, melting the icy walls he had spent a lifetime building. It was intoxicating and disarming. Every steady breath she took seemed to pull him further into her spell, the rhythm lulling him into a strange calm. His head felt light, his chest heavy with something unfamiliar, something he didn't dare name.

He traced her features with his eyes—the curve of her lashes, the soft flush of her cheeks, the way her lips parted slightly in sleep. How had he ever allowed himself to be so blind to this? She was beautiful in a way that made his heart ache.

His eyelids grew heavy, his body relaxing against his will. Even the strongest sleeping drugs couldn't have granted him this kind of peace. What was she doing to him? What kind of spell had she cast?

With a soft sigh, Carlos closed his eyes, surrendering to the strange, sweet calm she brought. For the first time in his life, he fell into a deep, untroubled sleep, with her warmth still cradling him and her presence filling the cold void he hadn't realized was there.