Robert.
I woke before she did.
The room was still wrapped in that fragile quiet that only exists just before the world fully stirs. The air felt warmer beneath the sheets, heavy with the lingering heat of shared sleep. Morning light slipped through the curtains in soft gold streaks, slow and deliberate, spilling across the bed until it found her face.
It rested there like it belonged to her.
For a long moment, I didn't move. I didn't even breathe too deeply, afraid the slightest shift would break whatever this was. I just watched her.
Tessa was curled slightly toward me, her body angled as though instinct had guided her closer sometime in the night. One hand was still fisted lightly in my shirt, the fabric wrinkled beneath her fingers. Even in sleep, she held on.
As if she needed proof I was still there.
As if she was afraid I might disappear if she let go.
That did something to me.
