Brandon's POV
The first light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains of the hotel room, casting a soft, pale blue hue across the white linen.
I lay on my side, my head propped up on one elbow, breathing in the quiet atmosphere of the room. The air was thick with the scent of crushed lavender, warm skin, and the faint, unmistakable trace of her vanilla perfume lingering on the sheets. Every exhale I took felt grounded, rooted in a reality I had spent the last year begging the universe to give back to me.
Under the heavy white duvet, Zoe was asleep.
I couldn't move. I didn't want to breathe too loudly, terrified that if I shifted even an inch, the illusion would break, the room would dissolve, and I'd wake up alone in my empty bedroom with a cold ache in my chest. But the rise and fall of her shoulders was real. The quiet, rhythmic sound of her breathing was real.
