Morning arrived slowly.
Soft light filtered through the curtains, pale and gentle, stretching across the foot of the bed like a careful hand. The world outside hadn’t yet awakened fully—just the faint hum of distant traffic, the occasional bird, and the rhythmic tick of the wooden clock in the hallway.
But inside the room, inside the warmth of their bed, time moved differently.
Marnie woke first.
Her cheek rested against Michael’s chest, her legs tangled with his. His arm was draped around her waist again—heavy, protective, impossibly warm—holding her as if he had no intention of letting her drift even an inch away.
She didn’t remember falling asleep in his arms.
She only remembered the heat of his breath on her skin, the soft press of his lips, the way he whispered I love you like a
