The first light of dawn crept softly into Amara's apartment, painting the room in hues of gold and rose. The world outside stirred awake, but inside, time felt suspended.
Amara blinked against the gentle glow, her body cocooned in warmth. It took her a heartbeat to realize why she felt so different—why her chest was light, why her lips still tingled.
And then she felt him.
Adrian.
He was lying beside her on the couch, their bodies tangled beneath the same blanket. His arm rested protectively around her waist, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. Even in slumber, he held her like she was something precious, something he couldn't bear to let go.
Amara's heart softened, a smile ghosting across her lips.
For years, mornings had been the hardest—lonely stretches of silence where she fought against the weight of emptiness. But this morning… this morning felt different. Whole.
She reached up, her fingers brushing lightly against his jaw, tracing the faint stubble there. He stirred, his lashes fluttering before his eyes slowly opened.
When he saw her, a sleepy smile tugged at his lips. "Good morning." His voice was husky, rough with sleep, and it made her shiver.
"Good morning," she whispered back.
Adrian tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched. "Tell me this isn't a dream," he murmured.
Amara's chest ached. "If it is, I don't want to wake up."
He kissed her forehead, lingering, as if savoring the simplicity of the moment. There was no rush, no urgency like the night before—only tenderness, only the quiet reassurance of two hearts finally beating in sync.
"I meant what I said," Adrian whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I can't live without you. Last night wasn't just passion, Amara—it was everything I've been holding back."
Her eyes glistened as she cupped his face. "And I meant what I said too. I'm done running, Adrian. I'm done being afraid. If loving you breaks me, then… I'll break beautifully."
Emotion tightened his throat, and he kissed her again—slow, reverent, as though sealing a vow in the morning light.
The moment was perfect.
Too perfect.
Because as they held onto each other, neither noticed the phone on the table buzzing again and again. Neither saw the name flashing across the screen—a name from Adrian's past.
And just like that, the shadows of the world outside their cocoon threatened to creep in.