Maya's POV
Morning came without asking permission.
Maya woke on the studio floor, Adrian's shoulder pressed against hers, the warmth familiar and wrong at once. She knew his body now — the tension in his jaw even in sleep, the way his hand found hers unconsciously, then released it, then found it again. Last night that rhythm had comforted her. This morning it felt like a habit he was trying to break.
She didn't move. The gray light through cheap curtains made everything look like a photograph she'd already studied too long — Elena curled on the mattress, Lucas's documents scattered across the linoleum, Adrian's profile sharp and exhausted and somehow younger than he'd been at twenty-two.
Younger, because he'd stopped performing.
That was the terrifying part.
Across the room, Elena s
