Sage's POV
Mornings had a way of feeling heavier lately. The sun would filter through the blinds, casting its soft light across the room, but it didn't reach the cold feeling that was inside me.
Mark was still asleep, his breaths steady and deep beside me. The room felt unnaturally still, like the quiet was holding its breath, afraid of waking him.
I watched him for a moment, the way his face softened when he slept, the boyish innocence, the way his dark hair curtained his eyes. No tension in his jaw, no guarded look in his eyes. Just Mark—unguarded, vulnerable, peaceful. The sight of it did something inside me, something that I possibly couldn’t explain in words, even to him.
I wanted to reach out, to touch his face, to brush the stray strands of hair from his forehead. But I didn’t.
