Alex woke up just before sunrise, the pale light slipping through the shutters and tracing lines across the bedroom floor. He was already upright before he even realized it, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he caught his breath. The room was quiet, still infused with Isabella's faint scent of lavender and vanilla, a softness that clung to the air like an embrace. Her chest rose and fell with a gentle rhythm beside him, and Alex traced that soft rise with his eyes, steady and calm, grounding him in that moment before the day could steal it away.
He felt the room's peace, and he knew instinctively that this morning, this sliver of quiet and warmth, was tearing at him. It was a softness he did not often allow himself, a comfort that felt too easy to sink into. Yet, even as he acknowledged it, he knew it was not something he could hold onto without cost.
