Nina did not sleep.
She lay on her side facing the wall, eyes open, breath shallow, listening to the quiet rhythm of the city beyond the glass. Morning had not fully arrived yet. The room was still dim, wrapped in that fragile hour between night and day. Dante was behind her. She could feel his presence without touching him. The weight of it pressed into her back like an unanswered question.
Something had shifted.
She had felt it the night before. Not in his hands or his mouth or the way his voice had dropped when he said her name. It was deeper than that. Something buried under restraint. Something unfinished.
Dante moved slightly, the bed dipping under his weight. He had not slept either. She knew that now. His breathing had been too controlled. Too aware.
“You are awake,” he said q
