Luca's POV
I woke up at five forty-two.
The apartment was gray and quiet. I lay on her couch with her blanket and stared at the ceiling and listened to the specific silence of a place where people were still sleeping.
I'd slept four hours and felt completely awake.
That was new.
I was usually a bad sleeper. Had been for years. The particular kind of insomnia that came from a mind that didn't know how to stop processing. I'd made peace with it. I built my mornings around it.
But I slept there. On her couch, in her space, with her somewhere down the hall, and my mind had simply stopped.
I didn't examine it too closely.
I heard her at six-fifteen. The soft sounds of someone moving carefully to avoid waking other people. Water running. The quiet of the kitchen.
I sat up.
She appeared
