The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, pale gold brushing against the edges of the couch. Eve stirred, her cheek still resting on Ryan’s chest, his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. His arm lay loosely around her waist, heavy with sleep, his breath even and untroubled.
For one fragile moment, she stayed still. The warmth of him, the weight of his body, the illusion of closeness , it was almost enough to pretend. To pretend this was real, that they were a husband and wife tangled together after a night of love, not desperation. To pretend that when he woke, he might smile, brush a kiss against her forehead, ask if she had slept well.
But she knew better.
The moment his eyes opened, the mask would return. The walls would rise again. And she couldn’t stay long enough to
