The sun had just begun to climb over the tops of the trees, casting long, golden streaks through the cabin windows. It wasn't loud or dramatic—just a slow, steady kind of light that warmed the wood-panelled walls and made everything feel softer. Gentler. I stretched beneath the covers, blinking against the hush of the morning, and for the first time in what felt like forever, my chest didn't ache with confusion or fear. The quiet wasn't heavy today. It felt… earned.
Mark was still asleep beside me, one arm tucked under his head, the other resting somewhere between us, close enough that I could feel the ghost of his warmth. His breathing was steady, peaceful. I let my eyes linger on him for a moment—on the way the light caught in the rough line of his jaw, how his hair was a mess, his brow smooth for once.
The air felt different this morning—lighter.
