"Dylan, go away. I'm tired," Myra mumbled, her voice heavy with fatigue as he wrapped his arms around her.
"I brought ice cream," Dylan said, holding up the tub like a peace offering.
Myra's eyes snapped open, the promise of sleep forgotten as she bolted upright. "I thought you said you were tired," Dylan teased, amusement dancing in his tone.
"Stop playing and give it to me," Myra demanded, snatching the tub from his hands.
"You haven't eaten properly today either," Dylan remarked, watching her scoop another bite of ice cream.
"I ate a lot," Myra retorted, her voice defensive as she avoided his gaze.
Dylan frowned, the crease between his brows deepening. "Myra, you know you can tell me anything," he said softly, nuzzling against her neck, his warmth a quiet plea for honesty.
She sighed, attempting to deflect. "Okay, then... bring cake next time."
