Morning arrived gently, without urgency.
Sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin, pale bands, resting across the floor like it had nowhere else to be. Aria woke slowly, not startled by thought or responsibility, but by warmth. Luca's arm was still around her, heavy and familiar, his breathing even.
For a moment, she stayed still.
Not because she needed to. Because she wanted to.
This kind of quiet had become rare enough to feel precious. Not fragile. Just earned.
She shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, and listened to the house. Pipes settling. A distant car passing. The soft hum of a city that was awake but not demanding anything from her yet.
She smiled faintly.
Luca stirred anyway.
"You're thinking again," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
Aria laughed softly. "I was trying not to."
"That never works," he said, eyes still closed.
