She falls asleep without deciding to.
I notice because I always notice.
Not the exact second her eyes close—Aris is too disciplined for that—but the slow surrender of her weight. The tension leaves her shoulders first. Her breathing evens. Her fingers stop worrying the edge of the blanket like it might disappear if she lets go.
She sleeps like someone who learned early that rest is temporary.
Not curled. Not sprawled. Balanced halfway between readiness and trust, back against the couch, legs tucked beneath her, dark hair spilling across the blanket and over my thigh.
I don’t move.
None of us do.
The film plays softly, but the room has shifted into something older than entertainment. Instinct takes over. Orion’s knee angles closer without him realizing. Silas’s presence tightens at t
