The weak light of dawn slipped through the thin curtains of Amara’s hotel room, the faint hum of the city below carrying the promise of a day that neither of them could take for granted. Damien stirred first. His body, still heavy from fever, felt strangely light now, less burdened by the weight in his chest.
For a moment, he lay still, his eyes adjusting to the pale blue glow. The sound of water running from the small bathroom was the only thing grounding him in the present. He remembered last night, her hand on his forehead, her soft voice telling him to rest, the way she’d stayed close without making him feel weak.
Amara emerged moments later, dressed simply in a black hoodie and fitted jeans. She moved quietly, as if trying not to disturb the fragile calm of the morning, but when her
