The morning light arrived softly, like it didn't want to wake them.
Golden rays spilled lazily across the sheets, caressing bare skin, kissing the curves of two bodies still tangled in the remnants of a night that had changed everything.
Serena stirred first.
Her lashes fluttered open, heavy with sleep. For a moment, she didn't move—just breathed. Her head rested against the steady rise and fall of Damon's chest, her leg draped over his, her fingers splayed across the place where his heartbeat lived.
She'd never slept like this.
Wrapped in someone's arms, without armor. Without fear. Without pretending to be less or more than what she was.
Just her.
Just him.
Just the quiet between them, filled with everything they hadn't yet said.
Damon murmured something in his sleep. His arm tightened around her instinctively, like even unconscious, he refused to let go. Serena smiled—barely.
His hair was tousled, lips slightly parted, his jaw softer now, without the burden of the world pressing down on it.
He looked… young.
Human.
Hers.
She closed her eyes again for a moment and listened—to the birds outside, to the faint hum of the city returning to life, and to the man beside her, breathing like he'd finally found rest.
Then she shifted slightly and pressed a kiss to his collarbone.
"Damon," she whispered, her voice hoarse with sleep.
He stirred again, this time with more awareness. His eyes opened slowly, dark and sleepy, blinking against the light.
And when he saw her there—looking at him like he was the sunrise itself—his mouth curved into the faintest smile.
"You're still here," he said, voice rough.
She smiled. "You sound surprised."
"I usually wake up alone."
Serena traced her fingertip over his chest, down the line of an old scar she hadn't asked about yet.
"Not this morning."
"No," he said softly. "Not this morning."
They lay there a while longer, saying nothing. Letting the weight of silence become comfort, not burden.
Then she propped herself up on one elbow, her hair falling around her like a curtain of silk.
"Last night wasn't a mistake, right?" she asked quietly. "You don't regret it?"
Damon reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"No," he said. "If anything, I regret every night before it."
Her breath caught.
He reached for her then, pulling her down so their foreheads touched.
"I never planned for you," he whispered. "But I think my soul did."
Serena closed her eyes, tears threatening behind her lashes.
"Don't say things like that unless you mean them."
"I do."
"Because I'm already falling too fast."
His hands cupped her cheeks, gentle but firm. "Then fall. I'll catch you."
And he kissed her again—slow and soft, like sunrise. Like promise.
---
They made breakfast together—badly.
Damon burned the toast. Serena dropped an egg on the floor. They laughed more than they ate. She danced barefoot on the cold kitchen tiles while he leaned against the counter, sipping coffee and watching her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
"Stop looking at me like that," she said playfully.
"Can't," he replied.
She bit her lip. "Why?"
"Because this is what I always wanted and never thought I'd deserve."
The words sat heavy between them. Not sad—just true.
She walked to him slowly, reaching for his hand.
"You deserve more than this," she said. "More than burned toast and stolen mornings."
"I just want you."
And he meant it.
---
The knock on the door came like a crack in the spell.
Three sharp raps.
Uninvited.
Unplanned.
Damon's expression shifted instantly. He set his mug down and moved toward the entry with the quiet precision of a man who had spent too much of his life preparing for war.
Serena followed him, a strange chill running down her spine.
He opened the door.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was her father's lawyer.
Serena froze.
The man was in his sixties, polished and serious. His expression flicked between her silk robe, her bare feet, and Damon's bare chest before settling into something unreadable.
"I'm sorry to intrude," he said. "But this couldn't wait."
"What is it?" Serena asked, suddenly cold.
He handed her a sealed envelope. "Your father's will. There's a clause. One you need to read. Immediately."
She looked at the envelope like it might bite.
Then at Damon.
His eyes searched hers, steady and silent.
But something in her already knew.
Whatever was in that envelope… was going to change everything.