The morning sun didn’t burst through the curtains it slid gently into the room, touching everything with a quiet sort of grace. Violet stirred awake to the rhythm of city life faintly echoing below—the distant honk of a cab, the whistle of wind through high rise gaps, and the steady beat of her husband’s breathing beside her.

Bryan’s arm rested across her waist, warm and protective. She didn’t move for a long moment, letting the peace of it sink in. There was a time when she would’ve flinched from moments like this, afraid they wouldn’t last. Now, she simply let herself be.

Her gaze drifted toward the nightstand. Her journal...