On a winter morning past six, the sky was still a faint blue.
In the bedroom at Waterside Residence, the curtains were tightly drawn, enveloping the room in tranquil peace.
Besides the man's even breathing, there was a small figure subtly shifting beneath the covers.
Henry Ronan lay in a standard supine position, his arms resting properly on his midriff.
At this moment, the thin blanket under his arm was suddenly tugged by someone, and then everything returned to calm.
Yet Henry continued to keep his eyes closed, as if he was in a deep sleep, completely unaware.
Only the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
Lucy Ansley lay with her eyes shut for a moment, seeing no signs of him awakening, she pushed aside the strands of hair from her face and began to closely observe Henry.
Though they had known each other for a long time and had been in a relationship for a while,
she never had the chance to really look at him, at least not so unabashedly.
