The next morning, Aryan awoke as usual at seven. The faint golden light filtered through the curtains, washing the room in a quiet calm. He stretched, a small sigh escaping his lips, and rose from the bed. As he opened the window, the warm morning breeze brushed against his face—soft, silent, and soothing.
Feeling a little lighter, he turned around—and saw Evan sleeping on the sofa.
"Why is he sleeping here again?" Aryan muttered under his breath.
The sunlight had begun to creep toward Evan's face, making him frown even in his sleep. Aryan instinctively stepped into the stream of light, shielding him. He stood there for a moment, watching him—how peaceful he looked despite the discomfort. A strange warmth spread through Aryan's chest.
He remembered last night. The words, the looks, the unspoken things between them. Without realizing it, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
