— While Ellis Slept —
The room is suspended in a hush of gold and shadow, the lamplight pooling across the bed like honey spilled from an overturned jar. Outside, the rain has settled into a steady, patient rhythm—a soft percussion against the glass, a murmur that fills the silence without breaking it.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, the garden has dissolved into shades of gray and silver, the winter jasmines barely visible through the veil of rain streaming down the glass.
On the bed, Ellis and Silas lie tangled together beneath the weight of the blanket, their bodies curved into one another like two halves of something whole. The fabric is rumpled around them, soft and warm, holding the lingering heat of shared sleep. Ellis's breathing is deep and even, the slow rhythm of a man who has finally found rest.
