ISLA’s POV
The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft rays of light across the bedroom. I blinked, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. Usually, Oliver was already up and gone by now, diving headfirst into his workday. But today, something was different.
I turned my head and saw him still in bed, lying on his side and looking at me. His gaze was steady, but there was something lighter in his expression, almost playful.
“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth.
“Morning,” I replied cautiously. I wasn’t used to this—Oliver being around in the morning without a rush to leave. “Don’t you have work?”
He smirked, pushing himself up on one elbow. “I’m not going today.”
That threw me off. “You’re not?”
“Nope,” he said casually, as if skipping work was so
