The morning sunlight spilled into the apartment like warm silk, casting golden stripes across the hardwood floor and softening the edges of everything it touched. The air was quiet—peaceful in a way that felt earned. I stirred beneath the throw blanket, blinking slowly as the memory of the night before settled gently in my chest. The weight of shared glances. The comfort of tangled limbs on the couch. The quiet bravery of four people putting parts of themselves onto paper.
Edward must have carried me here after I drifted off, because I didn’t remember falling asleep. But his scent still clung to the blanket—clean, musky, familiar—and the ghost of his warmth still lingered where he’d been.
I sat up slowly, stretching the sleep from my limbs, and glanced across the room. The dining table c
