A Night of Unspoken Truths

Leyla let out a slow breath, her heart hammering in her chest. Ozan's warmth was pressing down on her, his breathing uneven against her neck. She knew she should push him off, but… something stopped her.

He was hurting.

His grip around her waist remained firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid she'd disappear. Leyla had never seen him like this before—so raw, so broken.

"Ozan," she whispered, hesitant.

No response. His breathing had slowed, his body heavy against hers.

Leyla sighed. So much for leaving. She carefully shifted, trying to make herself more comfortable beneath him. His weight was overwhelming, but oddly enough, she didn't feel suffocated.

She ran her fingers through his hair once more, her movements slow, careful. It was the only thing she could do for him.

A deep sigh left his lips, and for the first time that night, his body fully relaxed against her.

Leyla stared at the ceiling, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

Ozan had always been a mystery—one she never cared to solve. But tonight, seeing this side of him, she couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath his ruthless exterior.

She didn't know when sleep overtook her, but as the night stretched on, one undeniable truth settled in her heart.

Ozan wasn't as heartless as he pretended to be.

The golden light of dawn peeked through the massive windows of Ozan's mansion. The world outside was waking up, but inside the dimly lit bedroom, everything felt strangely still.

Leyla's eyes fluttered open, blinking in confusion as she felt warmth pressed against her. Her mind took a moment to register the weight resting on her.

Ozan.

He was still there, his head buried in the crook of her neck, his arm lazily draped over her waist. His breathing was steady now, unlike the broken mess he had been the night before.

Leyla's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was she doing here?

Her eyes widened as the reality of their position hit her. She was lying beneath him, his muscular frame pinning her down. His grip on her waist tightened slightly in his sleep, as if unconsciously holding on.

"Ozan…" she whispered, nudging him lightly.

No response.

She sighed, trying to carefully slip out from under him, but the moment she moved, Ozan stirred.

His brows furrowed as he let out a low, sleepy groan. His voice, still thick with exhaustion, came out rough.

"Stay."

Leyla froze.

Stay?

A sharp contrast to his usual arrogance, his tone was almost… pleading.

She clenched her jaw, shaking her head as she pushed harder against his chest. "Ozan, let me go."

His grip loosened, and after a moment, he slowly sat up, rubbing his temples.

Leyla quickly rolled out from under him, standing up and brushing off imaginary dust from her dress. Her mind was racing.

Ozan let out a deep sigh, his face blank, but his eyes—his damn eyes—looked exhausted, haunted even.

"You shouldn't have stayed," he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

Leyla scoffed, crossing her arms. "Excuse me? I wouldn't have if you weren't a drunk mess last night. You should be thanking me."

He let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "I don't need anyone to take care of me."

Leyla rolled her eyes. "Yeah? Well, last night, you did."

For a moment, silence stretched between them.

Then, as if snapping back into his usual self, Ozan's smirk returned.

"Did you enjoy sleeping under me, princess?"

Leyla's face flushed with frustration. "Oh, shut up!" she snapped, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at him.

Ozan caught it effortlessly, his smirk deepening. "Admit it, you liked it."

Leyla turned on her heel, marching towards the door. "I'm leaving, and if you ever mention this again, I will personally make sure you regret it."

As she reached for the door handle, his voice stopped her.

"Leyla."

She hesitated. His tone was different—quieter, more serious.

She didn't turn around, but she waited.

After a beat, he simply said, "Thank you."

Without another word, she walked out.

Ozan sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. His head was still heavy from the alcohol, but the warmth of Leyla's presence had disappeared too quickly.

She had seen too much.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. No one was supposed to see him like that. Vulnerable. Weak.

"Damn it."

He stood up, grabbing his phone from the nightstand. There were missed calls from Emir. No doubt about business.

But right now? Business was the last thing on his mind.

As soon as Leyla stepped inside, her mother's sharp voice reached her ears.

"Leyla? Where were you last night?"

Aylin Iskender stood by the grand staircase, her arms crossed. Her piercing gaze scanned her daughter like she already knew something was off.

Leyla hesitated for half a second before composing herself. "I was with friends."

Aylin raised a brow. "Dressed like that?"

Leyla glanced down at her slightly wrinkled dress and scowled. Great. Busted.

Before she could come up with a proper excuse, Emir walked into the room, fixing his cufflinks.

"Mom, relax. She's an adult," he said casually before turning his gaze to Leyla. But there was a knowing glint in his eyes.

Leyla ignored him, muttering a quick, "I'm going to my room."