Yura floated awake in a slow drift, surfacing out of heavy sleep as the weak morning sun trickled around the blackout curtains, dust motes whirling in the half-light. She shifted under the tangle of linen, every inch of skin singing, nerves still lit up and raw from the night before. The room was cool, a little too quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the AC and Joon-ho's steady breathing beside her.
