POV: Maya
---
He didn’t sleep. I didn’t either.
The floor was cold and unforgiving under my thin blanket. Every shift of his weight on the futon echoed like thunder. Nicholas Hale. The name bounced around my skull, sharp and ugly. Billionaire. CEO. Stranger.
Sunlight finally crawled through the grimy window, painting stripes on the laminate floor. I sat up, muscles screaming. He was already awake. Sitting on the edge of the futon, elbows on his knees, staring at his hands like he’d never seen them before. His shoulders were tense, that unnatural stillness back. The Noah who’d laughed over burnt toast was buried deep.
Right. Coffee.
Do normal things. Maybe the world won’t end.
I shuffled to the kitchenette, avoiding his line of sight. The kettle screamed like a banshee, breakin
