"Did you have a nightmare?"
Forrest's voice was gentle. "I was passing by to get some water and heard you shouting, so I knocked."
Was she really shouting in her sleep? Had the nightmare frightened her that much?
It must have been unconscious, Mila thought, nodding wearily. "I haven't been sleeping well."
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lysander with a head full of blood, and the image of being trapped in a dark, narrow cell haunted her. It was exhausting.
She hesitated, then asked, "Do you have any sleeping pills?"
She couldn't continue like this. If she kept losing sleep, her condition would deteriorate and she wouldn't be able to focus on her design work.
Forrest shook his head, disapproving. "Too many sleeping pills aren't good for you."
Seeing her disappointment, he hesitated before suggesting, "If you trust me, I could sit by your bed until you fall asleep."
Mila was momentarily taken aback.
Back in college, when she was stressed about project deadlines and couldn't sleep, Forrest would set up a makeshift bed in the office, sitting beside her until she drifted off.
But that was the past. Things had changed between them. It wasn't appropriate anymore.
Mila shook her head, refusing. "It's not that I don't trust you, I'm just not comfortable with it."
Forrest smiled softly.
"I understand. I'll ask around for some non-medicinal ways to help you sleep."
"Thanks, I'll try to figure something out too."
Mila closed the door and locked it.
The warm, dim hallway light cast long shadows as Forrest stood outside her door, listening to the click of the lock, and he chuckled softly.
He leaned against the door frame, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose with a quiet sigh.
After standing there for a moment, he decided against returning to the master bedroom. Instead, he opened the door to the guest room next to Mila's and settled in for the night.
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