In the morning, Irene was woken up to an unfamiliar sight. Her eyes fluttered open and she gazed at Ilyan's closed eyes. Her eyes traveled down to his hand that was in her tight grip. She almost instantly let it go and pulled herself away. The sudden jerk woke him up from the slumber.
He looked at her hesitantly pulling herself in a sitting position, realizing the close proximity they shared. He stepped down the bed. "Uh… I actually…" He fumbled to put together what had happened the previous night that had brought him to her and what circumstances had led him to stay back with her.
"You don't have to explain, Ilyan," she said, catching him off-guard with her faith in him. "I know… what must have happened." Her feeble voice and downcast eyes had him quickly walk closer to the bed.
"It's okay…" He murmured, his hand raising to pat her head as he watched her upset self.
