The city woke slowly, as if even Tokyo needed time to reconcile the weight of a new season. Cherry blossoms floated lazily in the morning breeze, soft petals catching in puddles on the streets. But inside Violet’s apartment, the world had already begun moving in a rhythm all its own the rhythm of two people who had spent too long apart, now together, learning to breathe in the same space again.

Bryan was the first to stir, stretching with the kind of languid ease only someone completely comfortable could allow themselves. His gaze fell on Violet, still curled beneath the soft folds of his shirt, the edges of her hair...