The morning came quiet—too quiet for a day that carried this much weight.
Soft light spilled through the half-drawn curtains, brushing against Matteo's face with gentle insistence, urging him awake.
The scent reached him first—coffee, warm bread, something faintly sweet that pulled him from the depths of restless sleep.
When he opened his eyes, Felix was already there.
He stood by the small table near the window, arranging plates with the careful precision of someone trying to hold chaos at bay.
A faint line creased his forehead, concentration evident in every movement, but when Matteo stirred, Felix looked up and smiled—tired, but genuine, carrying warmth despite the tension that hung in the air.
"You're awake," Felix said softly, voice still carrying the hush of morning. "Good. I was starting to think I'd have to drag you out of bed myself."
