Mio lasted only five minutes.
Five minutes of leaning against the car window, watching the coastline blur into streaks of warm gold and soft blue, before her eyelids fluttered… dipped… then closed completely. Claude noticed the moment her breathing shifted, settling into a gentle, exhausted rhythm.
He glanced sideways.
There she was—his wife, small and soft and wrapped in the oversized hoodie he had forced her to wear because "the sea breeze might steal you from me." Her cheek was pressed against the seatbelt, lips slightly parted in a way that made her look heartbreakingly peaceful. One of her hands, previously holding onto her water bottle, had fallen limply onto her lap.
Claude's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
"Sleeping already…?" he whispered, voice drifting into a tender sigh. "You really worked too hard today."
