Morning light slipped softly through the curtains, golden and unhurried. It brushed against the white sheets, caught in Violet’s hair, and lingered on the gentle rise and fall of her breath. The apartment felt alive in that quiet way mornings sometimes did — not with noise, but with the hum of contentment.

Bryan was already awake, lying beside her, studying her face. There were faint traces of dreams still written across her features the smallest smile curving her lips, the calm that only came when she finally slept without fear. He reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek, his touch careful, reverent.

She stirred and blinked...