Notes Between Seasons

The late afternoon light slanted through the tall windows, softening the edges of the room where Anya sat curled on the plush velvet sofa. The hum of the city beyond barely seeped in, muffled by thick curtains that Elias had drawn earlier. The quiet was a sharp contrast to the electric heat that still lingered on her skin from the shower, and from the moments they had shared earlier. Now, with Elias gathering his things, preparing to leave for a quick office matter, a different kind of silence settled.

She watched him move with practiced ease effortless and precise, even in casual clothes. There was something magnetic about how he managed his day: part businessman, part enigma. He folded his blazer over one arm, glancing at his watch with that same faint, private smile that had teased her lips just hours before.

"I'll be back before you know it," he said, voice low, almost reluctant to break the cocoon they'd built.

She sat curled on the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on top. "First time you're leaving me here and already abandoning me to my thoughts."

He raised a brow, amused. "Abandoning? I'm gone for, what; an hour? Two, tops?"

"That's at least an episode and a half of existential dread," she said dryly.

He laughed, stepping back, then returned, crouching in front of her. "You'll survive."

"Will I? Alone? With nothing but your overpriced scented candles and dangerously soft blankets?"

"You love those candles."

She narrowed her eyes. "That's not the point."

He leaned in, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. His fingers lingered, warm and steady. "You're safe here," he said quietly. "Try not to burn the place down with your candle rebellion."

She smirked. "No promises."

He kissed her brief but soft. "Okay, now I definitely have to come back early."

"Just make sure you do come back," she whispered, fingers catching his one last time before he moved.

He squeezed her hand. "Always."

The door clicked shut behind him, and the sudden absence of his presence was like a cold draft against her skin. Alone now, Anya let her thoughts drift untethered but vivid.

How does he balance it all? she wondered. The effortless confidence, the sharp focus that melted away when he was with her. The man who runs his world like clockwork, yet somehow lets me into his chaos without hesitation.

Her fingers traced the armrest, feeling the softness of the velvet under her skin, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air something woody, with hints of cedar and something warmer, more intimate. The smell wrapped around her like a memory she wasn't ready to forget.

She closed her eyes, letting the quiet swell around her. Does he think of me like I think of him? The question settled deep, mingling with the flutter of anticipation and something tender hope.

Time stretched, measured only by the fading light and the occasional distant sound of cars or footsteps outside. She pulled a throw blanket over her legs, feeling the fabric's gentle weight, like a quiet comfort. The stillness coaxed a sense of calm, and her breathing slowed.

Suddenly, a soft chime echoed from the kitchen. She stood, walking toward the sound small reminders of Elias's presence in the apartment. The kettle clicked off, steam curling into the air. He'd filled it before he left, a thoughtful gesture she hadn't even noticed until now.

She smiled, a little to herself, and poured a cup of tea, the warm liquid steadying her. The first sip was bitter, but grounding.

She returned to the sofa, curling up again, tea warm in her hands. Her thoughts wandered work, life, the brief but electric moments they'd shared. She felt a thrill imagining how different tonight might be once he returned.

…..

Across town, Elias was already deep in the rhythm of business meetings, calls, decisions made with the same calm precision that marked everything about him. Yet, even amid the bustle of his office, his mind kept returning to her; her laughter, the way her eyes lit up, the softness beneath her skin.

Focus, he told himself, but the quiet pull of the apartment, the thought of her waiting, softened the edges of his attention. He smiled at a message ping on his phone: "Don't work too hard."

He pocketed the device, a private warmth in his chest.

...

Back home, the evening darkened. Anya's eyelids grew heavy, the tea long gone cold on the table beside her. She shifted, pulling the blanket tighter, sinking deeper into the couch's embrace.

He said he'd be back soon, she thought, fighting the slow pull of sleep. But exhaustion crept in, and the soft quiet around her folded like a lullaby.

...

The sound of the door opening stirred her from half-sleep. Not a loud noise, just a shift the kind you only notice when everything else is still. Footsteps, soft but certain, moved across the floor. Elias paused in the doorway, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dim golden hue that the standing lamp cast over the room.

There she was curled like a question mark on his couch, breathing slow and even, the throw blanket tangled around her legs. Her face was relaxed in sleep, mouth slightly parted, hair fanned out like a halo over the pillow. One hand had slipped beneath her cheek, the other resting on her stomach. Something about the sight so peaceful, so completely unguarded squeezed his chest with an emotion he didn't name but felt everywhere.

He slipped off his shoes quietly, the soft thud of leather against wood barely audible, and crossed the room. Every step toward her felt like gravity pulling him back where he belonged. He lowered himself slowly onto the couch beside her, the cushions shifting under his weight as he leaned down, brushing a stray hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered, tracing the delicate line of her jaw, his touch featherlight, reverent.

She stirred slightly, lashes fluttering, then opened her eyes still soft with sleep to meet his. Her gaze found his instantly, pupils wide in the low light, eyes dark and tender.

"Miss me?" he whispered, voice rough with tired longing, fingers now sweeping down to her collarbone, his thumb brushing against warm skin.

She smiled, lazy and lovely, a sleepy curve of lips. "Maybe a little."

"Just a little?" he echoed, raising a brow, feigning offense. "I nearly perished out there, you know."

"In a luxury car. To a meeting. With air-conditioning." She stretched languidly under the blanket, her foot brushing against his leg. "Yeah, sounds brutal."

He chuckled low in his chest and leaned in closer, the edge of his jacket grazing her bare arm. "It was unbearable. No sarcastic commentary. No one to steal my fries. Complete and utter torture."

"Fries are fair game," she mumbled, smirking, eyes falling half-closed again. "You know the rules."

"I do," he said, sighing dramatically. "And yet I still love you through it."

"You're a martyr," she said, mock admiration in her voice.

He leaned down, forehead resting against hers, fingers threading gently through her hair. "I missed you," he murmured, the words sincere now, stripped of teasing.

"Welcome home," she whispered back, brushing her nose against his, the contact light and intimate.

He kissed her then slow and reverent. The kind of kiss that spoke of long days and longings held close. A promise sealed with skin. He kissed her like he was claiming something lost, even though she'd never left.

The kiss deepened for a breath, then softened again. She pulled away with a smile that tilted at the corners. "You smell like traffic and coffee."

He groaned, mock-offended. "Don't ruin the romance."

"Too late," she teased, nudging his shoulder with her nose. "Also, your hair's doing that thing."

"What thing?"

"The floppy, adorable, can't-decide-if-you're-a-model-or-a-sleep-deprived-intern thing."

He ran a hand through it, then tugged at the ends dramatically. "Floppy is the signature style of exhausted geniuses, thank you very much."

"Oh?" she said, cocking an eyebrow. "And what genius act did you accomplish today?"

"I conquered a boardroom. Signed off three contracts. Beat traffic. And…" He paused, his grin turning sly. "Resisted the urge to text you something completely inappropriate mid-meeting."

She laughed, the sound low and warm. "Proud of you."

"You should be. The restraint it took? Superhuman."

She reached up and lazily tapped his chin. "Keep talking like that and I might have to remind you I'm still the queen of distractions."

"Oh, trust me, I haven't forgotten." He kissed her again, slower this time. "I was just biding my time."

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

He leaned in closer, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. His voice dropped, intimate and charged. "Definitely both."

She exhaled a laugh, the kind that vibrated between them, then melted into him, their bodies shifting to tangle more easily along the cushions. Her legs slid between his as he pulled her against his chest.

"God, you're warm," he murmured against her temple.

"I was napping. Like a cat. In your sunlight," she whispered, eyes fluttering closed for a second, only to reopen when she felt him smile against her skin.

Their laughter faded into the hush of the room again. Just the rustle of the blanket, the brush of fingers along a wrist, the slow inhale-exhale that synced without effort.

"Did you eat?" she asked, finally.

He nodded against her. "Grabbed something on the way back. But I could be convinced to share, if you're nice."

"I'm always nice."

"That's debatable," he murmured.

She gasped. "You wound me."

"You love it."

She tilted her head back enough to kiss his jaw. "I really do."

He smiled against her, fingers playing lazily with hers under the blanket. "I'll go heat up the food in a bit."

"Or," she said, pulling him back down, "we could stay like this for just a few more minutes."

"Dangerous suggestion."

"Why?"

"Because you know I'll never say no to you."

She pretended to think for a beat. "I do like my power."

He grinned. "Remind me to never leave you alone again. You get far too confident without me here to balance you out."

She laughed, soft and bright, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Balance me out, then."

And with that, he kissed her once more, long and unhurried, the city beyond forgotten, the hours ahead suspended. Wrapped in warmth, teasing, and something softer something safe they stayed right where they were.

Together.