Chapter 8
847 Words
Chapter 8: Stay a Little Longer
The first thing Monica noticed when she opened her eyes—
Was the silence.
Not the heavy kind.
Not the kind filled with tension.
But something softer.
Warmer.
She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through her curtains—
—and then felt it.
Kian.
His arm draped loosely around her waist.
Steady.
Protective.
Like it belonged there.
Monica stilled.
For a second—
She just listened.
His breathing.
Slow
.
Even.
Real.
And suddenly, everything from the night before came rushing back.
The confession.
The kiss.
The choice to stay.
Her heart skipped.
This is real.
She shifted slightly—
Careful not to wake him.
No luck.
“You move too much.”
Her lips parted in surprise as she looked up.
Kian’s eyes were still closed.
But there was the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.
“You’re awake?”
“Been awake.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Since when?”
“Long enough.”
Monica lightly pushed his shoulder.
“That’s creepy.”
He let out a quiet chuckle, finally opening his eyes.
And just like that—
The moment changed.
Because now they were looking at each other.
No walls.
No distance.
Just… this.
“I am hungry,” she said softly.
Kian held her gaze for a second longer than necessary.
“Hungry.”
Something about the way he said it—
Made her heart race again.
Too easy.
Too natural.
Dangerous.
Monica cleared her throat slightly, pulling away just enough to sit up.
“We haven't eaten because of your tantrums.”
Kian leaned back against the headboard, watching her.
“You’re thinking about food right now?”
She glanced at him. “Yeah I’m hungry.”
A pause..
Then—
“Also, it’s a distraction.”
He smirked. “From what?”
Monica hesitated.
Then met his gaze.
“This.”
Honest.
Unfiltered.
Kian didn’t look away.
“Then don’t distract yourself.”
Her breath caught—
just slightly.
“Easy for you to say.”
“Not really.”
Silence.
Then—
Monica stood up.
“Come on,” she said, brushing it off
lightly. “You stayed. Least I can do is feed you.”
Kian raised a brow. “That your way of thanking me?”
She shot him a look over her shoulder.
“Don’t make it weird.”
Too late.
It already was.
The kitchen was small.
Simple.
Which meant—
There was no such thing as personal space.
Monica opened the fridge, scanning its contents.
“I don’t have much,” she admitted. “But we can make something work.”
“Or we can order.”
She shook her head. “No. We’re cooking.”
Kian leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
Watching her.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
He pushed himself off the counter.
“Alright.”
And just like that—
They were doing something normal.
Cutting vegetables.
Reaching for the same things at the same time.
Laughing—
without even realizing it.
At one point, Monica turned—
and nearly walked straight into him.
“Oh—”
Too close.
Again.
Kian didn’t move.
Neither did she.
“You’re in my way,” she murmured.
“You walked into me.”
“Debatable.”
A pause.
Then—
She stepped around him.
But not before her shoulder brushed lightly against his.
Intentional?
Maybe.
Kian exhaled slowly.
This wasn’t helping.
Not at all.
“Careful,” he muttered. “You’re going to burn that.”
Monica glanced at the pan—
then back at him.
“You’re distracting me.”
“Funny,” he said. “I was about to say the same thing.”
She smiled.
Small.
But real.
And for a moment—
Everything felt… easy.
No past.
No complications.
Just two people figuring things out—
one quiet moment at a time.
Later, they sat across from each other.
Plates half-empty.
Conversation slower now.
Comfortable.
“You didn’t have to stay,” Monica said suddenly.
Kian looked up.
“I know.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“Why?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“Because you asked me to.”
Simple.
But it meant more than she expected.
Monica looked down at her plate briefly.
Then—
“I’m glad you did.”
Kian leaned back slightly, studying her.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
Another pause.
Then she added—
quieter this time—
“I just didn’t think you’d choose me like that.”
That hit.
Kian’s expression shifted.
“I’ve been choosing you for a while,” he said. “I just didn’t say it out loud.”
Her chest tightened.
“Maybe you should’ve.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed.”
A beat.
Then—
They both smiled.
Not because it was funny.
But because it was true.
And now—
They were finally here.
Together.
Without running.
Without pretending.
And somehow—
That felt more dangerous than anything else.
- Writer
