Adrian Sterling suffers from severe insomnia. I was sent to his side when we were children to be his cure. I became his human pillow. Over the years, he dated one girlfriend after another. But no matter how wild the nights got, he always sent them away. He habitually held me to fall asleep. I had been by his side for so long that he arrogantly assumed I would never leave. Until the day my ten-year contract with the Sterling family expired. He had fallen completely for a new girl—one who kept him awake for three days straight with late-night joyrides. Mrs. Sterling coldly slid the renewal contract across the table, convinced I would sign it. That day, I remained silent for a long time. Finally, I smiled gently and said: "No. Let's end it here." 1 It was late when I arrived at the hotel suite. Adrian’s latest fling hadn’t left yet. The bedding had been changed, but the air still held a lingering, ambiguous scent—evidence of how intense things had been moments before. The girl, cheeks flushed, pouted playfully. "Do you really have to kick me out? Can't I stay the night?" Before he could answer, she saw me enter. She frowned. "Excuse me? We didn't order housekeeping." Adrian let out a short, sharp laugh. "She's not housekeeping. She's my... sleep aid." The girl froze for a second, then looked incredulous. "I wasn't enough for you? You need a back-to-back shift?" Adrian leaned against the headboard, eyes still hazy with lingering desire. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow with a half-smile. "Any issues sleeping with my little pillow?" He pulled out two checks, scribbled his signature, and handed them to the girl. "Alright, you can go now." I stood nearby, waiting for her to take the money and leave like all the others. Instead, she slapped the checks back onto the nightstand, chin held high. "I don't want your dirty money. I was satisfied too. Let's just call it a mutual transaction." With that, she walked out without looking back. Adrian fingered the rejected checks, a rare look of surprise in his eyes. But his expression quickly returned to normal. He pulled me into his arms with practiced ease, one arm circling my waist, burying his face in the crook of my neck. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air. I couldn't ignore it. I looked down and saw a bright red lipstick mark on Adrian’s collar. It was glaring, like a territorial flag. He noticed my gaze. His voice was raspy. "Hm? What is it?" I pointed at his collar, expressionless. "Lipstick." Adrian seemed to be in a good mood tonight. He spoke with unusual patience. "If you mind, I can go change?" I pressed my lips together and didn't answer. Seeing this, he thought for a moment. "Then let's sleep somewhere else. Let's go to your place tonight, okay?" I was startled. I didn't know why he suddenly wanted to go to my apartment, but we had shared a bed for ten years. Him coming to my place wasn't a big deal. I nodded. At my apartment, Adrian changed into the men's pajamas I kept for him and went straight to my bed. He liked to hold me face-to-face, one arm tight around my waist, the other across my back, locking me into his embrace. It was as if he truly treated me as nothing more than a body pillow. Because of this, I was particular about my bedding. Soft mattress, fluffy pillows, everything washed with lavender detergent. Plushies lined the wall—it wasn't a large bed, but it felt safe. Adrian, in his dark silk pajamas, looked out of place squeezed onto my pastel pink sheets. He lowered his head, nose brushing the top of my hair. After a moment of silence, he asked, "Elara, why does your bed smell so good?" I was already drifting off. "Everything was just washed." But Adrian didn't stop. He wasn't sleepy at all. He sniffed around until his nose touched the sensitive skin of my neck. He chuckled darkly. "Turns out, this is the best smelling spot." His hot breath hit my skin, causing a shiver to run down my spine. My heart skipped a beat. I looked up to say something, but my lips accidentally brushed against his chin. We both froze. Nervous, I tried to scoot away, afraid he’d hear my pounding heart. But he yanked me back immediately. "What are you hiding from?" His large hand rested on my shoulder. "Relax. I have no interest in a flat board like you." 2 I always knew Adrian didn't like me. In fact, he found me boring. From age 13 to 23, I had been by his side for nearly a decade. When he was 13, he was kidnapped by a rival company. No one knows exactly what happened, but after he was rescued, he suffered severe trauma and chronic insomnia. The doctors suggested a companion to help him feel grounded. That’s how I ended up at the Sterling Estate. There was a long line of candidates. I stood there in my worn-out clothes, exhausted from working odd jobs the day before. While waiting, I crouched in a corner and fell asleep. Adrian, surrounded by staff, walked out looking miserable. He scanned the crowd, pointed at the sleeping girl, and said impatiently, "Her. She'll do." Since then, I became his human pillow. As I grew older, Mrs. Sterling’s frowns deepened. She constantly hinted that I shouldn't get any "wrong ideas." So, I hid my crush deep inside, letting no one see. Over the years, I watched him date girl after girl. Before he could spend the night with them, I would knock on the door and perform my duty: "Mr. Sterling, it's time to sleep." To him, I was no different from those girls—just another person there for the money. But they brought him pleasure; I brought him nothing but dull routine. He eventually grew tired of my existence and tried to sleep without me. But he angrily discovered that after ten years, his body was conditioned to needing me to fall asleep. Doctors said a good mood helped with insomnia, so for ten years, I walked on eggshells, agreeing with everything he said just to keep him content. When he was in a bad mood, he would snap at me: "Stop with the fake concern. You're just here for the paycheck." I buried my love deeper and replied numbly, "Yes, just for the paycheck." I hid it well. Even in my diary, I referred to him distantly as "The Boss." Until I was 19. He helped me deal with some debt collectors who were harassing me. That night, for the first time, I allowed myself to write his name, Adrian, in my diary. By the time I snapped out of it, the whole page was filled with "I like you" and his name. Panicked, I wanted to tear it out, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I locked the diary in the bottom drawer of my nightstand. I thought it was safe. So, when I woke up the next morning and saw Adrian sitting in my chair, the drawer open, pointing at the diary, my world collapsed. He asked coolly, "What is this?" Five years of secret, humble love were stripped bare. "How... how did you open it?" I asked, voice trembling. "Tried all morning. Turns out the password is my birthday." He held up the notebook, eyes narrowing. "Entries from four years ago... You hide things deep, sweetheart." His tone was soft, but it terrified me. He tore the page out. Rip. Then he shredded it, piece by piece, tossing the confetti into the trash bin. "What are you fantasizing about?" he mocked. "Elara, did you think a piece of paper would make me settle down? They can do anything to please me. Can you?" 3 After that day, Adrian didn't contact me for three days. On the fourth night, his assistant knocked on my door, supporting a very drunk Adrian. "Mr. Sterling drank too much tonight. Please take care of him, Miss Grey." Usually, Adrian had a high tolerance. How much did he drink to get like this? I helped him into bed and went to the kitchen to make hangover soup. While the water boiled, I felt a hot body press against my back. Adrian wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Elara," he rasped. I froze. He rarely used my name. Usually, it was "Hey," or mockingly "Baby" when he wanted to tease me. "Are you feeling sick? The soup is almost ready..." Before I could finish, he kissed me. It was warm, gentle, landing on my cheek, the corner of my lips, my neck. The scenario I had dreamed of for years was happening, and it rendered me speechless. I tried to push him away, but he buried his face in my neck, whispering my name over and over with thick desire. "Elara... Elara..." I am not a saint. When he called my name like that, I couldn't refuse. I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck. It wasn't our first time. Four years ago, when he found out I was negotiating a raise with his mother, he had stormed into my room. "Just for the money, right? Fine. If I give you enough, will you sleep with me?" That night had been painful and devoid of affection. But tonight, he was gentle. He kissed me, held me, and whispered to me. When it was over, he held me in his arms, pecking my lips. "Your waist is so thin," he teased softly. "How did you handle that?" I lay in his arms, thinking: Maybe, just maybe, Adrian feels something for me too? He slept deeply until noon. His phone rang. I picked it up to silence it so he wouldn't wake, but I saw the Caller ID: Lyra. My blood ran cold. A ridiculous, terrible suspicion formed in my mind. Adrian woke up. He took the phone without a hint of his usual morning grumpiness. A familiar, charming female voice drifted from the speaker: "Adrian, I heard you haven't slept in three days because you were racing cars all night to chase me?" "Hmm, since you're so sincere, I'll forgive you. Whatever you want to do tonight, I'm game." It was the girl from the hotel. Adrian smiled and agreed. He hung up, the smile fading as he looked at me. He frowned. "Why was it you last night?" I dug my nails into my palms. So, the tenderness, the whispers of my name... it was all because he thought I was Lyra? The names sound similar when drunk. Elara... Lyra. "It was me," I said, closing my eyes. "Who else would it be?" Adrian was silent. Finally, he sighed. "Baby, you really can't leave me, can you?" He pulled out a checkbook, scribbled a number, and patted it against my cheek. "You were obedient last night. This should cover it. But remember your place—you're just a pillow. Don't dream of anything else." 4 That night, Mrs. Sterling called me to the main estate. She slid a contract across the table. "Adrian's new girlfriend says she can help him sleep, too. Maybe we don't need you anymore." "The salary is cut in half. Sign it if you want." She was certain I would sign. Five years ago, I had begged for this job to pay for grad school. I looked at the contract. Ten years of memories flashed by. I pushed the paper back and shook my head gently. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Sterling. Let's end the contract here." The room went silent. "You've thought this through?" she asked slowly. I nodded. "Don't think you can play hard to get," she warned. "You're just a sleep aid. He doesn't need you." I stood up and bowed. "Thank you for the Sterling family's help over the last decade. I won't regret this, and I won't pester him." She relaxed. "You have seven days left on the current contract. Pack your things. Once it expires, disappear. Don't appear in front of him again." "I promise." Leaving the estate, I stood on the street feeling lost. For years, I had prioritized Adrian over everything. I even rejected a prestigious exchange program in New York because I didn't want to leave him. I pulled out my phone and texted my professor. Is the spot for the New York program still open? She replied instantly: Yes. I'll secure it for you. I realized then: No one should put their life on hold for someone else. 5 I spent the next few days packing. On the second night, Adrian came to my apartment. Since that night, he preferred my bed to his own luxury suite. He opened the closet. "Where are your pajamas? Two sets are missing." "They were old. I threw them out," I lied. He lay on the bed, hand resting on my waist. I flinched. My waist was still bruised from his grip the other night. "Why are you dodging?" he grumbled. He lifted my shirt and saw the bruises. He sighed. "You always say you're fine when you're hurt." He went out, bought ointment, and applied it. The warm light softened his features. It was the most peaceful we’d been in a long time. "Is the contract up soon?" he asked casually. "Go renew it." He didn't know. "Adrian, I..." His phone rang. It was Lyra, crying about a paper cut she got while packing for their camping trip. Adrian stood up immediately. "I'm coming over." He put his jacket on, tossing the ointment aside. At the door, he paused. "What were you going to say?" I looked at him standing in the dark hallway. "Nothing. It wasn't important. Go." The seventh night arrived. The Sterling butler called to verify my departure. I told him I was going abroad and would never return. I sat in the living room, waiting for the final "shift." Midnight passed. Adrian didn't come. At 1:00 AM, he called. "Mr. Sterling, it's time to sleep," I said robotically. On the other end, I heard a girl's bright laughter. "Wow! The fireworks are beautiful! I love you, Adrian!" He laughed, then spoke into the phone. "Not coming back tonight. I'll sleep with you tomorrow." Lyra's voice chimed in. "No way, you promised to stay! Let me try to lull you to sleep again." Adrian chuckled. "Fine. I'll see you the day after tomorrow, Elara." I listened quietly. In that moment, the last shred of reluctance in my heart vanished. The next afternoon, I boarded a plane to New York. I took out my SIM card and snapped it in half. Elara, keep walking. Don't look back.
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