I S A B E L L A
I wake up slowly, the kind of awakening where reality seeps in like a gentle tide instead of crashing all at once. For a few seconds, I’m floating in that hazy space between sleep and consciousness, warm, comfortable… safe...
That’s new...
My brain usually jolts me awake like a cruel alarm, reminding me of where I am, of who I’m with, of what my life has become... But not this morning. This morning, I’m wrapped in warmth... literal warmth, because there’s a strong arm draped over my waist, pressing me into the solid warmth of another body... Angelo.
The realisation doesn’t send me into a panic. Instead, I let my eyes flutter open, blinking against the morning light filtering through the curtains. His arm is heavy but not restraining, his grip loose, as if even in sleep,
