The next morning unfolded with a warmth that didn’t rush to be noticed. It simply settled over the apartment with a gentle certainty, the kind that made the walls feel less like walls and more like a place that understood her rhythms. Violet stirred beneath the sheets, feeling an unfamiliar looseness across her shoulders. It wasn’t bliss or excitement; it was something quieter and more grounded.

She listened for a moment. Soft sounds drifted in from the living room. The television hummed on low volume. The kettle clicked off. Someone shuffled near the counter with deliberate care.

Bryan was awake.

The realization carried no tension. No alarm. It simply existed...