The room was still.
The kind of stillness that comes after a storm, not the destructive kind, but the kind that leaves you raw and full and quietly shaken in your bones. A soft amber light filtered in through the curtains, painting everything in golden hues. Jason wrapped his arm around my waist, his chest rhythmically rising and falling behind me.
I hadn't moved in what felt like hours.
Because I didn't want to.
His warmth was still wrapped around me, his touch etched into my skin like a reminder I was alive, loved even after all the pain, the confusion, and the fear. Last night had unraveled something in me, and even though we hadn't spoken about it directly, I knew he felt it too. The urgency in our hands. The tremble in our voices. The way we clung to each other as if the world outside might tear us apart the second we let go.
