The morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, painting the apartment in a warm, golden glow. I stirred against Mark’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my cheek, and for a second, the world outside didn’t exist. Just him. Just this space. Just the fragile, stolen comfort we had claimed for ourselves.
I shifted, feeling the warmth of the sheets and his body, and he murmured something low and approving, nuzzling my hair. “Good morning,” he whispered, voice rough from sleep.
“Morning,” I breathed back, stretching against him. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft ticking of a wall clock.
We moved slowly, cherishing the silence and the small rituals of morning. Mark pulled the coffee pot from the cabinet, filling it while I br
