Just as Davis had predicted, Jessica stirred awake not long after he had finally drifted into sleep.
The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains. Her lashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. Gently detaching herself from the familiar warmth of his embrace, she let out a soft yawn and stretched, flexing her limbs and arms.
"She had been stressed out the night before and still felt a slight throbbing in some areas, yet she was refreshed and content. Taking a deep breath and casting a brief glance at the culprit, she sighed.
His calm, peaceful, almost childlike sleeping face caught her attention. Gently, she propped herself up, resting her cheek against her palm as her gaze settled on his face.
"God can really be partial sometimes," she whispered with a faint smile, eyes tracing his serene features which had long been ingrained in her memory, yet she couldn’t get tired of them. "Creating some perfect, and some imperfect."
Her words left no room for bitterness, only awe—tender, quiet wonder with traces of jealousy. She didn’t want to imagine how many women would throw themselves at his feet after his recovery.
"Isn’t it better to get a mask for this face to shield it from vixens and fox spirits?" she murmured with a light smile.
For a fleeting moment, she was tempted to reach out, to run a finger along the fine lines of his face—the strong brow, the soft angle of his jaw, the firm but untroubled curve of his lips. But she refrained. He looked exhausted. Peaceful.
She quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoeing across the room like a ghost. The bathroom door clicked shut behind her as she took a quick, refreshing shower.
Stepping out of the bathroom, she picked out a loose, comfortable casual wear and slipped into it.
Standing in front of the mirror, she skillfully tucked her hair into a low braid, slipped on her ring and wristwatch, and took a deep breath. She was ready to dive into the tasks she had pushed aside the night before.
She had errands she had planned to handle and these matters she didn’t want Davis involved in. But with the unfinished work from last night she had to adjust the time to noon. Jessica made her way to the table with a small sigh, expecting hours of tedious labor ahead.
But the moment she opened the first file, her breath stilled.
Her brows knit in confusion. She flipped the page. Then the next. Then the one after that. Her frown deepened—but not from dismay. From disbelief.
"It’s done?" she murmured, flipping rapidly through the pages again in astonishment.
Each document was completed with meticulously attention. Notes annotated in the margins. Corrections applied. Even decisions she had left hanging in uncertainty were finalized with unwavering clarity.
The handwriting was sharp, confident. Every pen stroke held decisiveness, a deep understanding of her mind—perhaps even more than she had realized herself.
Her eyes darted toward the bed, where Davis lay still, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a gentle rhythm.
Her heart warmed with gratefulness..
She reached for the final folder—her design draft—and hesitated. This one, surely, had been left untouched. She hadn’t shown it to him in its entirety. Only mentioned it in passing.
But when she opened it, her breath hitched. Her fingers froze in mid-motion.
Her original sketch had been delicately refined and improved on, in a way that respected her vision while elevating it beyond expectation. Every line was bolder, clearer. Balanced. Harmonious.
And beside it... another design. Completely new.
A long, fitted rose-colored gown sketched with fine detail. Made of silk, it flowed like liquid. White satin panels inlaid with tiny gems ran along the sides and shoulders, sparkling like morning dew. A detachable cape hung from the shoulders, embroidered with silver threads forming sunray patterns down the back. A thigh-high slit added a bold, elegant touch.
Her eyes landed on a handwritten inscription next to the sketch:
She stared at it for a long moment, speechless, different emotions swirling in her heart.
"He did this?" she whispered. "Since when?"
She recalled those quiet evenings before the Noveria trip when he would sit beside her, casually peeking over her shoulder. She used to think he was just being observant, perhaps nosy. He’d suggest small tweaks here and there, subtle changes she had, more often than not, followed.
But she never imagined he had this kind of ability.
She looked at him again. Still sleeping. His body curled slightly, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, lips gently parted.
"Seems he stayed up just to finish all this, knowing I’d come back to work on it anyway..." she murmured. "Isn’t that exhausting?"
Yet there was no hint of resentment in her voice. But she felt heartache on how he had stayed up late just to relieve her work.
She held the sketch in both hands, quietly studying the flow of the fabric, the intricacy of the cape’s embroidery, the elegance in the gown’s silhouette. It wasn’t just technically perfect. It felt alive. As if emotion itself had been sketched into the curves and creases.
Jessica traced her fingers lightly over the design paper, her heart caught between pride and affection.
"New Light," she breathed. "That’s what I’ll call it, it’s a perfect name for it. It radiated discovery, a sense of emergence."
It matched her theme for the upcoming fashion week—Discovery. She had only mentioned it to him once, absentmindedly while sorting fabric samples. And yet he had understood. Captured it better than she had herself.
Tears welled in the corner of her eye, but she blinked it back quickly, brushing her knuckles against her lips to hide the quivering smile forming there.
She made a silent vow.
This gown—New Light—would not be mass-produced. It would be a one-of-a-kind piece. Her personal piece. No other hands would touch it. No one else would wear it.
Several ideas whirled in her head for a complementary design for the gown. A matching outfit. For Davis. Besides, they didn’t have any couples wear. May be this will serve that purpose.
A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she turned her chair slightly to look at him again. Still sound asleep. Completely unaware of the impact he had just left on her.
"I owe you a kiss but that’s when you wake up. The night must have been tedious for you. Sorting and attending to the document as well as designing." She mused quietly. Her gaze unwavering.
A flash of thought made her tilt her head thoughtfully. "What other skills and secrets are you hiding from me, Davis Allen?" she whispered, eyes gleaming with newfound admiration.