My Useless Mute Beta Wife Is A Big Shot!

Chapter 103: I Don’t Want To Think At All.....

The morning light spills into the living room like honey poured from a slow hand—pale gold, thick and warm, drifting through the glass wall in quiet streams. It catches the dust motes floating in the air, turning them into tiny suspended stars.

The room is still half-asleep, wrapped in the gentle silence of dawn.

I open my eyes slowly.

The ceiling greets me first—familiar and dark, framed by the golden lights that now seem dim beside the morning sun. Warmth spreads across my face. The couch is soft beneath me, the cushions shaped to my body from hours of stillness.

Then I feel it.

The weight on my chest. The warmth against my side. The slow, steady press of another body tangled with mine beneath the blanket.

I look down.

Silas is sleeping on me.

A blanket drapes over both of us—white, soft, kicked loose at the edges from restless sleep.

His face rests against my chest, turned slightly toward my heart as if listening for something only he can hear. His arms are wrapped around my waist—not loose, not tentative, but held with the unconscious certainty of a child clutching something precious in sleep.

His legs are tangled with mine beneath the blanket, a knot of limbs neither of us bothered to untangle before the night slipped away.

His brown hair catches the morning light—strands of amber and gold woven through the darker brown, gleaming like they’ve been dusted with something precious. His long brown lashes rest against his cheeks, dark crescents against pale skin, trembling faintly with each slow breath.

His lips are parted. Just a little. Enough to see the shadow of his breath, steady and warm, seeping through my shirt, reaching my skin.

And there—on his lower lip— A faint red bruise.

A bite mark.

I did that.

I stare at him without blinking.

Last night... we kissed.

I’m the one who crossed the line.

My gaze lingers on his sleeping face.

This boy who climbed into my life without permission. Who refuses to leave no matter how many walls I build around myself.

And now—

He’s asleep on my chest like it’s the safest place in the world.

The memory rises before I can stop it—unfolding like something I’ve kept folded too long.

Our lips meeting in the dim light. The way his body trembled against mine. The way my hands found his waist and held on like I was afraid he’d disappear. The way his fingers tangled in my hair, pulling me closer, closer, closer—

And somewhere between one breath and the next, we stopped fighting.

Time dissolved around us, hour bleeding into hour, until neither of us knew where the kiss ended and the sleep began.

We ended up here.

On this couch.

Together.

My hand rises.

I don’t think about it. I don’t want to think anymore. Thinking has only ever made things harder.

My fingers brush his brown hair back from his temple. Softly. Slowly. The strands slide against my skin like silk.

I don’t know why, but with him...

I don’t want to think at all.

A soft smile spreads across my lips—unbidden, unguarded.

My fingers trace down his cheek, following the curve of the bone, the softness of his skin. Still flushed. Still red from last night, or from the warmth of sleep, or from something else entirely.

Cherry tomato.

The thought comes with a warmth of its own.

My fingers drift lower.

To his lips.

I trace them carefully. Gently. The touch is feather-light, but I feel everything. The softness. The warmth. The slight parting where his breath escapes.

His lips are so soft. Pink. Almost translucent in the morning light.

My thumb brushes over his lower lip.

The mark I left there is still visible—a faint bruise against pale skin, like a secret written in a language only we understand.

Silas stirs beneath my touch. Just a little. A small movement, like a ripple across still water.

I pull my hand back quickly.

He shifts, rubbing his cheek against my chest and burrowing deeper into the warmth, seeking it even in sleep. Then he settles again, sinking back into whatever dream holds him.

My smile widens.

Stubborn puppy.

Still clinging. Even in his sleep.

The morning air is cool, lingering from the night. I tug the blanket higher over his shoulders, tucking it around him carefully.

Silas stirs again. Deeper this time.

His eyes open slowly. He blinks once. Twice. Trying to focus. Then his gaze finds mine.

Sleep still clings to him, softening the edges of his brown-gold eyes. For a moment, he simply stares, silent and unfocused.

My hand remains on his back, holding him carefully, like something fragile I’m afraid to break.

He blinks again. And then he realizes.

He’s on top of me.

His body pressed against mine. His arms around my waist. His face resting against my chest.

With a sudden jerk, he tries to sit up.

My hand presses against his waist—firm, steady—and pushes him back down. His face meets my chest with a soft thud.

My voice comes out rough with sleep, lower than usual.

"Where are you going?"

His eyes widen. He freezes.

Color rushes into his cheeks, spreading from pale pink to a deep, vivid red. It creeps down his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his shirt.

I tug the blanket higher, cocooning him completely until only a tuft of brown hair peeks out from beneath the fabric.

Silas immediately starts squirming beneath the blanket. The bundle in my arms wiggles once. Twice. Trying very hard to escape.

A playful smile spreads across my lips.

Cute.

I tighten my arm around his waist, holding him against me. Not roughly. Just enough that he knows I’m not letting go.

"Don’t move." My voice is quiet, almost a murmur. "I’m still sleepy."

He stops resisting immediately.

His body goes still against mine—obedient, trusting. Like he’d been looking for an excuse to stay.

I shift my head against the cushion, finding a comfortable spot. Then I close my eyes.

"Let’s sleep a little more."

Silas doesn’t move.

His heartbeat is fast against my chest—a rapid rhythm, fluttering like a bird trapped in a cage. But slowly, slowly, it begins to slow.

To match mine.

A rhythm against a rhythm.

I don’t know.

I don’t want to admit it.

But this feels...

Comfortable.