Chapter 225: So this is love
Thorne’s POV
The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lantern casting warm shadows across the walls. The familiar scent of home—of Noelle, of our daughter—fills the space, comforting and grounding me after what feels like a lifetime away.
Noelle is curled up in the middle of our bed, his long dark lashes resting gently against his cheeks, his chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. He looks so peaceful like this, utterly serene, and I feel a deep warmth settle in my chest at the sight of him.
But I can’t ignore the way he’s been sleeping more than usual, how he gets tired so easily these days. I let out a quiet sigh, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face. He didn’t even take the time to oil his hair before falling asleep—a true sign of exhaustion. The last time that happened, he refused to let me touch him for an entire day when he realized the state it had fallen into. I chuckle to myself, remembering his dramatic gasp of horror when he saw his tangled locks in the mirror, acting as if the world had ended.
Shaking my head fondly, I retrieve the sweet-smelling vial of oil from his nightstand and pour a small amount into my palm, rubbing it between my hands to warm it before gently running my fingers through his hair.
I take my time, carefully massaging his scalp, working the oil through each strand like he usually does. He stirs slightly, making a soft noise, but doesn’t wake. His lips part just a little, his breath warm against my wrist as I continue my ministrations.
Twenty-nine minutes pass, but I don’t mind. This is my favorite part of the day, these quiet moments where I can just take care of him. Where I can remind myself how lucky I am to have him in my arms, in my life.
Once I’m satisfied, I wipe my hands clean and glance over at the crib, where our daughter sleeps soundly, her tiny form bundled in soft blankets. Mimi. Our little star.
She had cried herself hoarse when we returned, her little face scrunched up in distress, her chubby fists waving as if demanding to know where we had been. Noelle had swooped in immediately, cradling her in his arms, whispering soft reassurances while I stood there feeling vaguely guilty for leaving her behind. It had taken hours of rocking and gentle shushing, but eventually, she forgave us, falling asleep curled up on Noelle’s chest, her tiny fingers gripping his shirt possessively.