The morning didn’t arrive loudly. It didn’t burst through the windows or demand attention; it simply existed—soft, pale, and tired, like it understood what the night had taken from everyone.
Amelia woke up before the house did. She lay still for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the world outside. Somewhere far away, a car passed. A bird called once, then went silent. Her body felt rested, but her mind refused to slow down.
Last night lingered in her chest like a held breath.
The way Leo had looked at her—like he’d already decided she mattered. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the memories return gently. She remembered how her hands had trembled just slightly as she reached for the door handle. How she told herself to breathe. How, when she opened th
