Trapped in Your Hands

CHAPTER 4: No longer on silent

I woke up to a sharp ray of sunlight slicing through the gap in the curtains, forcing my eyelids apart. The world came into focus slowly, hazily—warmth, the faint scent of perfume, and the steady rhythm of breathing close to my ear.

I was still in Jiejie’s arms.

My breath hitched.

I lay there frozen, my mind struggling to catch up. My sleepwear was slightly undone—several buttons loosened, the silk ribbon at my chest now untied. I didn’t remember undoing them. Had she? Had I? A rush of heat crept up my neck as my fingers twitched against the soft fabric.

What... happened last night?

I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady, but my pulse betrayed me. My heart thumped wildly against my ribs, loud enough that I worried it might wake her. The memories were there—hazy, fragmented—the warmth of her breath against my ear, the ghost of her lips brushing my skin. But had I dreamed it?

I turned my head slightly, careful not to move too much, and finally looked at her.

Jiejie’s face was right there—so close that I could see every delicate detail, even in the morning light. Her long lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, her lips slightly parted in sleep, the soft rise and fall of her breathing impossibly steady while my own was anything but.

She was beautiful. So breathtakingly beautiful that I forgot how to think, how to move. My stomach twisted in knots. I didn’t know how to untangle them.

I should get up. I should slip away quietly, let this moment dissolve before it became something I couldn't let go of.

But I didn’t move.

Instead, I let myself sink into it. Just for a little while longer. I memorized the way she looked like that—unburdened, untouched by the world outside. I burned the image into my mind, as if I could make time stop just by wishing it hard enough.

Jiejie stirred.

I held my breath, my body stiffening as she shifted slightly, her arm still draped loosely around me. For a moment, I thought she would settle back into sleep. But then, her eyes fluttered open, dark and half-lidded with drowsiness, and landed right on me.

I panicked.

I must have looked ridiculous, frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. But she didn’t seem startled. If anything, her lips curled slightly, amused.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

I barely managed a nod. "Morning."

She stretched, then sat up, running a hand through her hair as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, I was still struggling to breathe properly.

"Stay for breakfast?" she asked casually, like it was a given.

I blinked. "I—um, okay."

And just like that, Jiejie slipped out of bed, leaving me to stare after her in disbelief.

Breakfast passed in a blur. I was very aware of everything—her presence, her voice, the way she moved around the kitchen. I kept replaying last night over and over, trying to decipher what it meant, if it meant anything at all.

By the time she walked me to the door, my mind was still a mess. But then—

"Add me on w******p, Little Babe," she said, tilting her head with a lazy smile. "Let’s have dinner sometime."

I barely registered the words before I was fumbling for my phone, my face heating up. "Okay! Yeah, of course."

She laughed at my enthusiasm, her eyes crinkling at the corners. And for the first time that morning, I exhaled.

As I left, gripping my phone like it was the most precious thing in the world, a new thought took root in my mind:

I didn’t want to miss a single message from her.

From that moment on, my phone was no longer on silent.

I returned the car to my senior, handing over the keys with a small, tired smile. She raised an eyebrow at me, as if she wanted to ask something, but thankfully, she didn’t. I wasn’t sure I had the words to explain anything yet.

After that, I took the bus back to my dorm.

The entire way back to my dorm, my mind was a tangled mess.

The ride was quiet, the early morning still clinging to the city like a soft haze.

I rested my forehead against the cool glass window, watching buildings and empty streets blur past, but my mind wasn’t there. It was still in that dimly lit apartment, still wrapped in the scent of Jiejie’s shampoo, still feeling the ghost of her warmth against my skin.

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.

It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was something deeper, heavier—something I didn’t dare put a name to yet.

The bus jolted to a stop, and I forced myself to stand, to step back into the ordinary rhythm of my life. But as I walked towards my dorm, phone in hand, fingers itching to send a message, I knew.

Ordinary didn’t exist anymore. Not after last night.