The sunlight that morning spilled across the floor in soft, golden streams, sliding through the curtains and brushing across Violet’s skin like a gentle insistence. She lay still for a moment, savoring the quiet that lingered in the apartment. It was a silence that didn’t press, didn’t nag, didn’t demand her attention. Instead, it settled around her like a blanket, full of warmth and possibilities.

Bryan was already awake, leaning against the kitchen counter with a steaming cup of coffee. He looked up as she entered the room, his expression soft but alert. “Morning,” he said, voice carrying that easy calm she had grown to trust.

“Morning,” she replied, her...