The sunlight spilled across the bed in slow strokes, golden and unhurried, like the day itself knew not to rush them. It stretched over tangled sheets, over bare limbs tucked close, over two people wrapped in the quiet kind of closeness that only comes after truth is spoken and forgiven.
Isabelle woke first.
She didn’t open her eyes at once—just listened. To the waves beyond the balcony. To the creak of the curtain rods in the soft breeze. To the rhythmic inhale and exhale at her back.
Sebastian was still asleep, warm and heavy against her. One arm was slung low across her belly, his hand splayed protectively over the smallest swell of her growing child. His breath warmed the back of her neck. He was curled toward her like his body was still memorizing the shape of her again.
She smile
