Shen Juan woke to the interwoven scents of sandalwood and gardenia.
The morning light filtering through the sheer curtains dyed the bedroom a warm, honeyed color. He realized he was still in the same position from when he fell asleep—holding Lin Zhi encircled in his arms, her breath gently brushing against his collarbone.
This way of waking was startlingly unfamiliar. For ten years, he was accustomed to occupying the entire bed alone. Yet now, the real weight in his arms gave him a strange sense of wholeness.
He gently withdrew his arm. In her sleep, Lin Zhi unconsciously moved closer to him. This subtle, dependent gesture made Shen Juan's chest grow warm.
The dining table was already set with plain congee and side dishes. Lin Zhi was stirring honey into a glass of water, her head bowed. Hearing his footsteps, the tips of her ears turned faintly pink, but she didn't avoid his gaze.
"I have a follow-up appointment today," Shen Juan said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "You're coming with me."
It wasn't a request. Lin Zhi noticed the faint shadows still under his eyes, though they were much better than days before.
In the private clinic, Dr. Chen looked at the test results, unable to hide his surprise.
"Mr. Shen, your cortisol levels have dropped 40% compared to last month," he said, pushing his glasses up. "This is quite unusual."
Shen Juan rubbed the sachet in his pocket absently. "Changed treatments."
"Whatever the treatment, you must maintain it," Dr. Chen said seriously. "The strain on your heart was nearing its limit. Chronic insomnia leads to—"
Before he could finish, Shen Juan stood abruptly. "Understood."
Lin Zhi, seeing his tense profile, gently pressed her hand over his clenched fist. The sudden touch startled Shen Juan, but he didn't shake her off.
On the drive back, Shen Juan drove fast. Stopped at a red light, he suddenly spoke. "I was hospitalized three years ago."
Lin Zhi waited quietly.
"Premature heartbeats," he said, the corner of his mouth twisting slightly. "The doctor said if I kept on not sleeping like that, I wouldn't live past forty-five."
She finally understood why he always seemed so agitated in the deep of the night—it wasn't irritation, but fear of death.
That night, Lin Zhi moved into the master bedroom.
There was no discussion, no agreement. She simply placed her pillow next to his. Shen Juan stood by the doorway watching for a long time, before finally entering the walk-in closet and hanging her sleepwear in his wardrobe.
Deep in the night, thunder came again.
Shen Juan opened his eyes in the darkness, feeling the warmth in his embrace. Lin Zhi was sleeping soundly, one hand resting unconsciously over his heart, as if guarding his fragile heartbeat.
The sound of rain remained, but this time when he closed his eyes, he heard her steady breathing.
At five in the morning, Shen Juan rose quietly. From the bottom drawer of his desk in the study, he retrieved the prenuptial agreement.
The sound of the shredder was soft, like the undoing of some kind of shackle.
When he returned to the bedside, Lin Zhi was just waking. In her drowsy state, she gave him a hazy smile.
That smile was more effective than any sleeping pill—Shen Juan thought he might have found the real prescription.
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