Chapter 7: Morning Realization

The sunlight slipped through the curtains, casting soft gold across the room. Birds chirped faintly outside, but inside the room, everything was still.

Rose stirred first.

Her head pounded slightly, a dull throb from last night's drinks. She blinked slowly, taking in her surroundings. This wasn't her room… the bed was wider, the scent different. Clean. Familiar.

Her eyes landed on the chest she was resting against.

Henry.

Her heart skipped. She was curled into him like a puzzle piece that fit too well—his arm draped around her protectively, his fingers resting just above her waist. He was still asleep, his breathing even, peaceful.

And she was fully clothed.

She glanced down, surprised to find one of Henry's oversized T-shirts draped over her dress. Did he put this here? she wondered, heart warming.

Carefully, she shifted away from him, sitting up at the edge of the bed. Her fingers brushed her lips. Did something happen? Did we… But no. Her body didn't feel like it. Nothing felt out of place. Just… warm. Safe.

She stood and tiptoed to the bathroom, splashing cool water on her face, trying to clear her thoughts.

Meanwhile, Henry stirred behind her in the bedroom, blinking his eyes open slowly. When he saw the empty space beside him, he sat up immediately.

"Rose?" he called softly.

"I'm here," she replied from the bathroom doorway, her voice quiet but clear.

Their eyes met.

"Do you… remember anything from last night?" he asked cautiously, running a hand through his hair.

She stepped closer, her lips forming a small smile. "Bits and pieces. You carried me out of the party, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "You were out cold. I didn't want to leave you like that."

"Thanks," she whispered, then paused. "You didn't—uh… you didn't do anything, right?"

Henry stood, walking toward her, stopping just a few steps away. "No," he said gently. "You were drunk. I wouldn't take advantage of that."

Rose felt a rush of emotion. "But you stayed with me all night."

"I couldn't leave you alone. And… I wanted to," he admitted.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Henry…"

"Yeah?"

"Something's changing between us," she whispered, eyes locked on his. "I don't know what it is yet, but I feel it."

His gaze softened. "I feel it too."

Silence wrapped around them, heavy and electric.

Then, Rose stepped forward and rested her hand on his chest. "If I wasn't drunk last night… and I asked you to kiss me… would you have?"

Henry leaned in, voice low and rough, "Yes."

"Then kiss me now."

This time, when their lips met, there was no hesitation. No confusion. Just truth, and longing, and something far deeper than either of them had realized.