The sun had only just begun to filter through the sheer curtains when Nicholas stirred beside her.
He woke with a quiet breath, one arm already instinctively curved around Ella's waist. Her back was nestled against his chest, her breathing slow and even, the faintest flutter of a sigh escaping her lips. For a moment, he didn't move. Just lay there, still, the early morning silence humming gently around them.
She was warm in his arms, her skin soft under his fingertips, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly into his palm. The nightmare still lingered at the edge of his mind—hazy but persistent, like smoke curling around the base of his skull. He didn't want to remember it, but his body did. The weight in his chest. The panic clawing at his ribs. The echo of her name, shouted into the void.
But then he'd opened his eyes and found her beside him.
Breathing. Alive.
And that made all the difference.
