Warmth still lingered beside her when she stirred, the imprint of someone's presence pressed faintly into the sheets. For one disorienting second, she thought she had dreamt it all. The kiss, the quiet confessions, and the way his hands had held her like something precious.
Her fingers curled against the mattress, reluctant to wake. But then she heard a slow, steady sound of breathing beside her, making her blinked herself awake.
Levan sat at the edge of the bed, already fully dressed in his uniform. The dark fabric pressed sharp and immaculate, silver embroidery glinting faintly in the early morning light. He looked as though he had been ready to leave a long time ago, yet had not moved an inch. His gloves lay on the bedside table, untouched.
His eyes cut toward her the moment she shifted, not with surprise, but as if he had been waiting for the exact second she woke.
"Good morning," he said warmly, his voice carrying none of the formality his uniform demanded.
