Kieran’s mornings had begun to feel lighter. He didn’t even realize it at first, but ever since Clara had agreed to spend more time with him, his days carried a subtle sense of anticipation. It wasn’t overwhelming, and it wasn’t flashy. It was quiet, steady, a slow warmth that made even the dullest mornings feel a little brighter.
When he walked into the kitchen one Saturday morning, Amelia was already there, leaning casually against the counter. She looked up from her coffee and smirked.
“You’re smiling again,” she said, teasing.
Kieran froze mid-step. “What do you mean?”
Amelia raised an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I mean. That… glow. The one you get when you’re thinking about her.”
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not glowing. I’m just… content.”
“Sure, content,”
