The morning after peace always carried a strange weight the kind that wasn’t heavy but quietly full. Like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see if the calm would stay.

Violet woke to the pale spill of sunlight stretching across the bed. Bryan was already up, the faint sound of the shower running in the background. The scent of his aftershave drifted through the air clean, familiar, grounding.

She rolled over, letting her fingers brush across the sheets where he’d been lying just moments before. It was still warm. For the first time in years, warmth didn’t feel like something borrowed. It felt earned.

Her eyes wandered to...